


Beware of Darkness

by Caladenia



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: AU of the Episode 'Night', Action/Adventure, Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode: s05e01 Night, F/M, Some events brought forward in the timeline, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 55,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25950973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caladenia/pseuds/Caladenia
Summary: AU of the episode ‘Night'.After Kathryn Janeway sacrifices herself and takes the shuttle to helpVoyagerescape the void, Chakotay relunctantly becomes the captain. The ship continues on its journey home, the crew believing their former captain will soon die alone in the darkness.Meanwhile, Janeway fights her fate in the void with all her might, only to fall into even greater danger.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 354
Kudos: 160
Collections: Into Fate's Mirror ~ Action-Adventure August





	1. The best-laid plans of mice and men

**Author's Note:**

> The prologue was posted as a stand-alone fic [_He Starts with the Bedroom_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18876958).
> 
> Title from 'Beware of Darkness', All Things Must Pass (1970), George Harrison.
> 
> My greatest thanks to BlackVelvet42 for her unbending support over the months it took me to write this, and her help with ideas, concepts and overall logic of this fic, and reading about three versions of each chapter. You have my eternal gratitude.  
> CoffeeBlack75 took the time to edit my writing with her usual attention to detail and great knowledge of English. Her enthusiastic notes in the margins were just what I needed.

* * *

**Prologue**

He starts with the bedroom, emptying the wardrobe into a storage box he’s brought with him. There’s only a handful of dresses, a pair of light shoes, casual wear for a relaxing evening on the holodeck or on shore leaves. Like him, Kathryn could always replicate the day-to-day pants and grey shirt, the red and black top, and the dark boots when the need arose for a clean uniform.

She’s only taken the clothes she had on her back when she left the bridge, Chakotay suspects. He doesn’t know. She’d organised her getaway out of sight, securing a shuttle hours before her departure using an encrypted security code Seven and B’Elanna have not cracked since she left a week ago.

She couldn’t ask the crew to sacrifice two more years of their lives, she’d told him. She wouldn’t make that mistake again, she’d said, her mind already made up. She’s always been one step ahead of him. Why had he thought this time would be any different? Now she was lost on the other side, lost to a journey the class two shuttle would never manage.

His half-baked mutiny had come too little too late. She’d outplayed him, setting the site-to-site transporter to access the shuttle from the bridge and blocking the tractor beam until she was out of reach. With the vortex in sight, he had had no choice but to follow her orders to free _Voyager_ of the night, leaving her behind.

Sporting a top speed less than half that of _Voyager_ , the small spacecraft will take four years minimum to cross the void. And with no planets to refuel from, there’s no way Kathryn can make it, even if she could survive being alone in a spacecraft the size of _Voyager_ ’s bridge. Too short a range is B’Elanna’s final verdict.

The shuttle will become a tomb, drifting forever in darkness while _Voyager_ continues towards home.

He shoves the contents of the dresser drawers in the box and slams them shut. After taking a few deep breaths, he turns to the bed. It’s big enough for two, like his. Starfleet might frown on fraternisation, but their furniture standard shows they’ve never wanted to prevent two warm bodies from taking pleasure and comfort in each other. Empty beds and empty souls cry for companionship even if for a single night.

This bed has only ever seen one occupant, though. His bedroom is, after all, touching the common bulkhead which is thick enough not to let any sound through. But he would have seen her bring a late one-night date back to the ship. Maybe, like him, she preferred the anonymity and discretion of shore leaves, with their forgettable encounters and meaningless sex.

He throws the light blanket aside, and his hand trails over the cold sheets. A week after her disappearance, the signs of her last night on board are still visible in the crumpled sheets. The pillow is askew, and he can see her sleeping with her arms hugging it like one cradles a child.

It must be fate, or irony more likely, but she slept on the right-hand side of the bed while he favours the left, the same positions they’ve held for years on the bridge before she forced him to captain _Voyager_. And like her command seat, his hand only touches cold air now.

In the drawer closest to her pillow, he finds the holoimage he’d seen on her ready room desk for many months at the start of their journey, until it was gone one day. Her dog, Molly and…? The name is at the tip of his tongue, and he works to dredge it up from his memory. Mark. Funny how he remembers the dog’s name better than the salt-and-pepper man’s.

The frame joins her clothes inside the box, and the bed sheets end up in the recycler. There’s nothing under the bed and the left-hand bedside drawer is empty. She’s not one to spread herself, it seems, and fill up the space around her, while he’s pretty sure he’s got a couple of books on the side he rarely uses, maybe a pair of socks too. He had expected to come across more of her personal possessions in what is—was—her most private room. She probably just crashed on the bed at the end of too many and too long shifts, no energy left for anything than sleep, like him. Four years of soldiering through and the prospect of seventy more of the same never make for an easy rest, unless one is too tired to care.

Moving to the bathroom, Chakotay spots a jar of soap, a nearly empty bottle of shampoo that smells of her, and a few items of make-up. He is no expert, but the shelf looks bare, as if the long journey home and the night outside have also robbed her of the small pleasures of being a woman.

Catching his reflection in the mirror, he wonders what she had last seen there before making the fateful decision to stay behind. Had it been the resolute Captain’s gaze, all sacrifice and tactical rationality? Better one than many; better I than any of my crew, she must have told herself while making her last decision as captain.

Or had it been Kathryn, already lost and alone? Because of him. Because he had not been there for her.

He grips the edge of the sink, head low, his chest hurting. Because he had reminded her of her duty instead, when all she needed was a shoulder to lean on for a few weeks. He couldn’t have done more damage if he had yelled at her to snap out of her funk.

When he lifts his head, there are only guilt-ridden dark eyes looking back. He swipes the shelf with his hand, and the mementos of Kathryn’s morning routine tumble into the side recycler.

Turning away, he stands on the threshold of the dim bedroom, blankly looking at the empty space void of anything of hers.

He’s gone through the same chore before for dead crew members. He’s learnt to clear his mind, so it doesn’t hurt thinking of the waste of a life now held in small personal things, things whose meanings are lost to anybody than their rightful owner.

It's not working this time.

~ _Torres to Chakotay_ ~

He stirs and straightens his back before hitting his combadge. “Chakotay here.”

~ _Neelix has just finished a stocktake of the emergency ration store_.~ “So?” What does he care about emergency rations?

But B’Elanna is patient with him. As she has been over the past seven days. ~ _He checked the results against the one he did when we entered the void. Then he re-did the inventory. Twice_.~

Chakotay waits, not trusting his voice. He has already guessed where this conversation is going.

~ _There’s a couple of months worth of one-person ration packs missing. That’s it. Despite what she told us, she knew from the start she wouldn’t survive the journey, Chakotay._ ~

No need to ask whom B’Elanna is talking about. He closes the comms without saying a word, then he lifts the box and walks out of the bedroom.

The living room is next, his gifts to her taking pride of place on the shelves: a blue-grey quartz he’d picked up on an unknown planet; a small wooden bird he’d carved while they were marooned on New Earth. On the couch, there’s a brightly coloured shawl he’d given her for her very first birthday on the ship, just a few weeks after they had arrived in the Delta quadrant.

They had taken a late afternoon stroll together, past busy shops on a friendly planet, a rare occurrence in Kazon territory. It was getting chilly, and he draped the soft fabric over her bare shoulders. She spun around with the brightest smile on her face, the worries of the past weeks gone with the setting sun.

He tries to catch that slice of time again, but his fingers close on nothingness as she turns away, her back to him and her shoulders bearing red again.

Bringing the shawl to his face, he breathes in deeply, catching a faint scent of her. It’s not enough.

It’s not her. It’s just some thing she left behind. Like everything and everyone else.

He wraps the small objects in the shawl before placing them on top of the clothing. It eats at him that he can't be certain she has taken anything personal with her. It’s as if she had been sure of coming back. More likely it was to delude him she could be made to stay when all she wanted was to leave.

Twenty minutes later and he has cleared Kathryn’s private possessions from her quarters. He stands near the door to the corridor, the box at his feet. Three thin books sit near the silent console terminal, a _Please, take them_ scribbled with his name on a card _._ He slides the note inside the cover of the Dante volumes and puts the books on the lid. A last look confirms the room is bare of any trace of its former tenant, save for memories frozen in his mind.

“Computer, site-to-site transport to cargo bay two.”

The box goes inside a grey trunk at the end of a long rack of shelves. After locking the electronic hatch, he types in its owner’s name, the letters glowing faintly in the gloom of the vast space, like its neighbours. With the books held tightly in his hand, he leaves the cargo bay to start his shift.

 _Are you ready to captain this ship?_ she’d asked, and he’d made a promise right then, a promise he must keep for the captain. But that is not him. Not yet. This ship was not built for him, and the seat on his right will stay empty for all the days and nights to come.

Until the time when he won’t notice the void at his side any longer, and that terrifies him the most.

* * *

**Chapter 1 - The best-laid plans of mice and men**

“Commander Riker, will you report to my ready room?” Picard’s voice sounded loud and clear in the nearly empty bridge.

“Immediately, sir.”

Riker got up and pulled on the hem of his uniform top. “You’ve got the bridge, Ensign.”

Not waiting for an answer from the young woman at the helm, Riker strode up the ramp towards the ready room. The _Enterprise_ was in orbit around an unremarkable planet, waiting for a delegation to come on board on its way to Earth to discuss their world’s involvement in the Dominion War. Riker hated these mundane missions where the Starfleet flagship was used as a mere ferry for dignitaries. The _Enterprise-E_ deserved better.

Picard was standing at the replicator. “Please sit down, Will. Coffee?”

“Thank you, sir. Black, one sugar.” In nearly ten years working under Picard, it was the first time he could remember his captain offering him coffee. Or calling him by his first name while on duty. Riker’s interest piqued.

Picard handed him a cup before sitting behind his desk. “I've received a communication from Admiral Gustafson. She wanted me to sound you out for a promotion.” Before Riker could protest, Picard put his hand up. “Your continual refusal has made you something of a problem for Starfleet Admiralty. She’s decided to make it my problem.”

“Sir, you know my position. No other ship comes even close to the _Enterprise_. I am quite happy to stay as your second-in-command as long as you’ll have me.” He grinned while sipping on his coffee. “Unless you are ready to retire, sir?”

Picard shook his head with a smile of his own, but didn’t take the bait. “The last time I met Admiral Gustafson, we attended a full performance of Wagner’s _Ring_. All nine hours of it. I am telling you this to help you understand that she is a very patient woman. However, even her patience has limits. That’s why she approached me. As a friend.”

“Then I’m sorry to decline your friend’s proposal, sir.”

“Will, as much as I appreciate the Admiral’s company, she’s hardly a close acquaintance. But you, on the other hand, are a totally different matter. Please hear me out.”

Riker nodded. This conversation had been on the cards for a long time. Offers of a commission had regularly popped up on his computer terminal, although less frequently since he had refused the captaincy of the _Melbourne_ back in ’66. Or was it ’67? Using Picard to sound him out was a new development however, and one he wasn’t sure he liked.

“Starfleet is looking for a captain for a brand-new ship,” Picard continued. “A top-secret project I knew nothing about until Admiral Gustafson told me about it. The ink on the ship’s blueprints is not even dry, so to speak.”

Riker found himself interested despite his wariness. “Top secret?”

Picard smiled over the rim of his teacup. “I thought that would draw your attention.” He slid a PADD across the desk and settled back in his chair. “These are the plans of the first of what Starfleet hopes will be a new line of very advanced ships. Admiral Gustafson didn’t go into the details of the propulsion system, but from what I’ve read she wasn’t bragging when she said these ships will be like nothing we’ve seen before. The engineers working on the project assured her that they would reach and maintain warp 9.9999 for an indefinite period.”

Riker did a quick calculation in his head. “Twenty thousand light-years in a year?” He was going to add ‘that’s impossible’, but he thought better of it.

“Minimum. The prototype might fly even faster to test the new engine to its limits.”

“A proper shakedown will be a challenge, though.” Riker flicked through the blueprints, most of them so heavily redacted as to be unreadable. “If the engine develops faults, the ship could find itself stranded thousands of light-years from the nearest Starfleet base.”

“And that’s why Starfleet is asking for you specifically. They want a captain with experience of deep space and who can think on their feet. The Dominion War has created many vacancies for ambitious officers to take over, but this particular project needs somebody on the bridge familiar with long-haul missions.”

Riker put the PADD back on the table. “I can’t say I’m not tempted, but I am comfortable where I am.”

“Will, you have refused promotion after promotion even though your experience and worth would be much better used leading a crew and ship than as a first officer. And there’s more. Since our latest brush with the Borg, Starfleet is not keen to risk the _Enterprise_ in battle again.”

A frown came over the captain’s face, and Riker could only imagine Picard’s frustration. “It does make for rather boring shifts, sir,” he admitted.

“Quite so, Number One. The _Enterprise_ is being used for trifling missions, and I don’t see that fact changing in a hurry. That’s one negative of being the fleet’s flagship. The worlds which support the Federation against the Dominion want to see the biggest and most famous Starfleet ship coming to their shores. It’s a diplomatic gesture the Admiralty is only too willing to embrace. This is why this promotion is an excellent opportunity to prove your mettle.”

Riker didn’t disagree in principle, but he wanted to know a bit more. “Any idea what the ship’s missions will be?”

“I don’t think a decision has been made yet. The launch is scheduled for a few months’ time, but they want somebody who will become intimately familiar with its capabilities and potential before its first flight.”

“Wouldn’t a captain with an engineering background be more suitable?” Riker picked up the PADD again. The prototype was small, barely bigger than a Nova-class starship.

“You know as well as me that it’s not a typical command path. However, if Starfleet had wanted somebody with such a background, they would have asked for one. They didn’t.”

Riker was feeling contrary. “There are many captains around without a ship. Why not ask them?”

“Oh, I’m sure the Admiralty has got a long list of potential candidates, but that is not the here and now. You are their first choice. I checked.”

“In other words, I should be flattered.” Curiosity was battling with caution in his mind.

“You certainly should. And, if I may, hear my advice. Starfleet can’t force on you a promotion you do not want, but Admiral Gustafson made it clear that your worth is being questioned at the highest level the longer your refuse to step up. Being comfortable is never what a Starfleet officer should aspire to, and it would be a pity if you were to sacrifice your career because of your loyalty to the _Enterprise_.”

“Or to its captain,” Will said with a large smile.

Picard inclined his head, not losing his seriousness. “I’ll be sorry to see you go, Will, but times are changing. We’ve lost too many good crews and captains over the past decade. The _Enterprise_ has been tasked with becoming a training ship for senior officers on the fast track. It’s a necessary job, but hardly a glamourous one. Nor will it be challenging. You will not be doing your career any favours by helping me baby-sit bridge officers.”

“That’s a waste of the _Enterprise_ ’s capabilities. Are you going to accept?”

“You know that I have refused a promotion to the Admiralty several times. Unfortunately, that means I have to obey orders, Number One.” Picard stood, bringing the meeting to a close.

Recognising the gesture for the dismissal it was, Riker got ready to take his leave. “I'll talk to Deanna. We might need some time to decide on what’s best.”

As he walked past him, Picard put his hand on Riker’s shoulder. “One more thing, Will. It’s a rare occasion when a captain takes possession of a new ship and picks his own crew. Don’t squander that opportunity. You will find it a demanding task, but a very rewarding one. I’ve never regretted the choices I made when selecting the crew of the _Enterprise_.”

Riker gave a last glance at the elegant and slick lines of the 3D model of the ship turning slowly on the screen of the PADD. The galaxy was suddenly looking very small.

The doors of the ready room opened, but Picard stopped just before the threshold. “Remember the words on the bridge plaque: ‘To boldly go where no one has gone before.’ I think the new ship will make this dedication very proud.”

* * *

After days sitting blankly at the shuttle helm, all alone and with nothing to do except for hurtling down a roller coaster of emotions, Kathryn asked the question she had avoided thinking about since she’d decided to board the shuttle.

“Computer, calculate how long the shuttle’s current fuel reserves will last on maximum warp speed with a one-person crew.”

Class two shuttles were the workhorse of Starfleet starships. Not famed for their speed, but reliable and sturdy enough to withstand a handful of cadets on their first unsupervised flight training exercise. And in case they got lost, the fuel tanks were meant to last until a rescue. The _Cochrane II_ had double the fuel capacity it had started with, because the Delta quadrant was no place to get stranded, the chief engineer had said one day, when putting in a very valid argument to upgrade all the shuttles. Only Chakotay had seen the captain wince at B’Elanna’s words.

~The shuttle fuel reserves will last three months and fourteen days at maximum speed,~ the computer intoned in its genderless voice.

The answer pleased her at a barely conscious level. As if there was hope hidden in those figures. She had thought she was on a one-way journey to oblivion in half that time, but this small craft, mainly used for planetary away-missions and scarcely large enough to carry four people in comfort, would sustain her for three times that, although well short of the four-year journey she had boasted about on _Voyager_ ’s bridge. She patted the helm in appreciation.

“What systems would consume the most energy over that period, from highest to lowest?” Unlike the cat of old, curiosity could hardly kill her.

~Engines, shields, environmental system, replicator, navigation, communication array, computer operation, weapon standby, short and long-range sensors, sonic—~

“Stop.”

There wasn’t anything else to be curious about out there, in that darkest of night. It was unlikely she would meet anybody in this void, hostile or otherwise. The Malon ship was no more, and the local inhabitants had disappeared. They probably didn’t even know there was a small vessel crossing their space at snail’s pace. However, radiation still permeated the surrounding night. She would need to maintain shields to ensure her own safety for a while longer. If a protracted death was what she wanted.

“How long would the fuel reserves last with shields at minimum, and weapon system, comms and long-range sensors offline?”

~Sixteen months and three days.~

She whistled, surprised at the figure. One more year. Now she was getting interested. She might as well investigate further, an intellectual exercise if nothing else. Something to pass the time and occupy her mind for a little while before the dark thoughts simmering in the background returned with a vengeance. “Specify the current settings of the environmental system,” she asked.

~Temperature of twenty-four degrees, sixty per cent humidity, twenty-one per cent oxygen, full illumination for eighteen hours, waste and air recycling systems at optimum capacity for one person, Earth-like artificial gravity.~

“And the replicator settings?”

~The replicator is set to provide three warm meals and two litres of drinking water a day, as well as clothing, entertainment articles and medical supplies.~

And shitty coffee, as her tastebuds could attest. She fleetingly wondered what kind of ‘entertainment articles’ had been programmed into the replicator database. She should have checked who had flown the shuttle last before taking it.

“Computer, do the same calculation but with an ambient temperature of twelve degrees, quarter illumination and one cold meal a day only. Air cycles at minimum levels. Eighty per cent Earth gravity.”

~Two years and two months.~

Still two years short. No way the sixty meal pouches she’d reluctantly pilfered from _Voyager_ ’s stores would stretch for that long. She would be long dead, sucked up dry by the night outside, the shuttle becoming a tomb.

But it was close.

She sipped her now tepid coffee. It was not a given that the shuttle would reach the end of the void by itself anyway. “What if all available energy was diverted exclusively to the engines?”

~Six years and four months.~

She sat up as her heart missed a beat. Six years. Even if the void was larger than _Voyager_ ’s sensors had estimated, six years would be plenty enough to leave it well behind and give her time to find a place to replenish _Cochrane_ ’s fuel reserves. She had not thought that possible. She had not thought at all about her own survival, full stop. Saving the crew from the Malon and getting _Voyager_ through the vortex so it could get to normal space had been her sole goals. Swamped by the melancholy of her own mind, she had not wanted to think about staying alive. Her death within the tritanium walls of the _Cochrane II_ had been a given from the moment she’d planned her mission, and until now it had only been a question of when rather than if.

Was there a chance that she might escape the void after all, and fly again through a space with planetary systems, suns, and maybe even friendly people?

Now that there was a possibility she could live, as tiny a probability as it was, it filled her with a burning desire to escape a fate she had foisted on herself in a moment of pure despair. She owed it to Chakotay to live. Because if he felt just a tenth of the feelings she had for him, to believe her dead would devastate him. And even though there was no way she could ever let him know, she would fight to survive. She owed him too much to give up.

Her fingers flew over the helm console. “Computer, shut down weapon system and external comms. Maintain current course. Reduce shields to minimum, and set the environmental and replicator controls to the levels I am inputting now.”

~Acknowledged.~

The light dimmed immediately, while the temperature took a few more minutes to reach its new setting. She huddled on the seat, her mind in turmoil.


	2. Comme un vol de gerfauts hors du charnier natal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously:  
>  _She owed it to Chakotay to live. Because if he felt just a tenth of the feelings she had for him, to believe her dead would devastate him. And even though there was no way she could ever let him know, she would fight to survive. She owed him too much to give up._

Chakotay clamped his hands on the shoulders of the two fighting men and yanked them away from each other. Their faces flushed, the crewmen staggered apart before standing at attention, Chakotay looming over them. This was the fourth fight he had stopped in as many days.

“I won’t even ask what that was about. Triple shifts for the two of you for a week. Next time, it will be the brig. Is that understood?” he growled.

“Yes, sir,” came the swift answer.

“Dismissed.”

The crewmen turned on their heels and hurried down the corridor, their quarrel forgotten.

Chakotay entered the turbolift with heavy steps. Ever since the ship had left the void, the crew had been jittery, prone to bad temper or smart remarks at the drop of a hat. But he had other things to think about than holding their hands. They needed dilithium before hurtling back towards the Alpha quadrant. Astrometrics postulated the presence of habitable planets on the other side of the vast asteroid field. He didn’t want to be caught short if those planets turned up to be less than friendly, but after three months of doing nothing, the slow and meticulous work surveying rocks wasn’t what he needed.

Striding onto the bridge, he sat in his usual place. “Where are we with those scans, Ensign Kim?”

“Some of those larger asteroids ahead of us look promising, Commander.”

He didn’t miss Kim’s glance at the empty captain’s chair. Everybody had been expecting him to take Janeway’s place as soon as _Voyager_ had exited the void. It had only been two days, for god’s sake. He tapped on the arm of his chair. “’Look promising’ isn’t a Starfleet term, Ensign.”

“Sorry, sir.” Kim’s stance deflated. “There’s a powerful photonic field which is buffering the short-range sensors. Attempting to compensate.”

“Bring us in closer on half impulse, Paris. Kim, use the deflector shield to emit a resonating pulse at the frequency of raw dilithium. The phase shift will show the distance and position of the dilithium deposits, like an old-fashioned radar.”

“Yes, sir. Recalibrating the deflector field now.” Kim’s now cheerful tone sounded forced.

Paris coughed. “I can go around the larger asteroids, Commander, but we’ll need that shield to avoid the hull getting pummelled by smaller stuff.”

“Give me a solution, Lieutenant. Not a problem.”

“I suggest modulating the signal on a ten-milliseconds on, two-seconds off pulse,” Tuvok chimed in. “That should prove enough to protect the hull while detecting any dilithium within a three-thousand-kilometre radius.”

“Do it, Kim.”

“Yes, sir.”

Chakotay let out a deep breath. His senior officers were doing their jobs well. Why was it so difficult for him to do his? He already regretted his harsh words and tone of voice. The loss the crew had endured was unfathomable, and his short temper wasn’t helping.

“I’m picking up five ships off the port bow, Commander.” Harry’s voice sounded strained. “No, make that six, seven—”

“Red alert and on screen.” Chakotay grabbed the arms of his command chair as _Voyager_ lurched sideways under a couple of hits. It took him a moment to spot the small matte-black ships. He could only see them when they moved against the dull-coloured asteroids before disappearing into the night behind.

“Report.”

“Minor damage to the deflector shield,” Tuvok said.

“Ensign Kim, open an external comms channel. Any more of those ships around, Tuvok? Why didn’t the sensors detect them earlier?”

“They are using a cloaking technology of unknown origin, Commander. The resonating pulse we are emitting makes them visible to our sensors, but the short range is a problem.”

“Increase the pulse to one hundred milliseconds, Kim. That should give us a bigger buffer.”

“Aye, sir. One hundred milliseconds. External comms are now operational.”

Chakotay stood. “Unknown vessels, I am Commander Chakotay of the Federation starship _Voyager_. We are on a peaceful mission. Please stop your attack and identify yourselves.”

A long and narrow face, pale as snow, appeared on the viewscreen, a thin smile almost invisible among what looked like ritualistic scars running down from forehead to chin.

_I am Isitu of the Shabma. We hear you, Chakotay of the Federation. We hear you all. Your ship is slow and alone. You are weak._

Chakotay blinked. The voice sounded like his own, but harsher and cheerless. Penetrating his skull. The other bridge officers were shaking their heads as if to get rid of an insistent buzzing noise.

His heart sank. A telepathic race. And not a friendly one. “We have no hostile intentions, but we will defend ourselves.” Bile rose in his throat as Tom steered the ship away from an asteroid the size of a half moon _._

_We purify those who escape from the Desolation. We cut off what is tainted and feed from the rest. We are many. We are strong. We come._

“Vultures,” Tom muttered in disgust.

Chakotay’s voice hardened. “Kim, cut off the comms. Tuvok, target their—”

“Commander, fifteen more fighters have appeared within sensor range and closing fast on our position. I'm also detecting another ship behind us, blocking our way back. It is of a considerable size.”

If he didn’t know better, Chakotay would have sworn that the Vulcan sounded awestruck. He sat back, keeping an eye on the enemy ships from the central console. _Voyager_ had hurtled head on into a trap, and it was up to him to get his crew out of there in one piece.

His own voice resonated again in his head. _We will cleanse you, Federation starship Voyager, and leave nothing behind bar dust and ashes._

“I’ve heard enough. Tom, can you get us through this?” He waved at the crowded space in front of them, the tumbling rocks so close he could almost touch them.

“Yes, Commander, but those smaller ships are more manoeuvrable. They’ll follow us without any trouble. And there’s more coming from that huge ship.”

“Then, let’s cause them to reconsider. Tuvok, a cloaking device on such small ships must use an enormous amount of energy. Can you estimate the strength of their armaments?”

“I do not believe the individual ships are a match for _Voyager_ ’s phasers. However, their combined power will do much damage.”

Another volley of hits made the bridge shudder as if to confirm Tuvok’s analysis. “They are targeting the deflector shield,” Kim said. “They must have realised that’s how we detected them before they were close enough to attack. Without the shield, we won’t be able to make it through the asteroid field.”

“They rely on surprise and on their numbers to overcome their target, and haul it back to the mother ship waiting behind us,” Tuvok said. “Its substantial size precludes it from leaving the space it inhabits between the void and the asteroid field.”

“It’s not like there’s many ships emerging from the void,” Tom said through gritted teeth as he avoided another mountain which dwarfed the ship. “No wonder they’ve got such long faces. Too much of a wait between meals.”

More hits came. “Shields at eighty per cent, Commander.”

“Time to make them regret taking a bite. Chakotay to Engineering.”

~Torres, here.~

“B’Elanna, can you increase power to the deflector shield?”

~Only if I disengage the aft shields.~

“Do it. Chakotay out. Kim, keep on monitoring those ships. Paris, raise speed to three-quarter impulse. Tuvok, target all phasers on the asteroids in front of us and fire at will. Let’s see if their shields can handle a few thousand tonnes of rocks coming their way.”

Twelve hours and three damaged decks later, _Voyager_ soared out of the asteroid field, leaving destroyed ships in its wake and the wrath of the Shabma promising revenge on any Federation ship crossing their territory.

**⁂**

The crew had rallied during the long hours they’d spent fighting the Shabma’s fanatical attacks and navigating the hair-raising asteroid field. However, a day later and it was as if their brush with the latest hostile Delta quadrant species to cross their path had not taken place. As soon as the ship had found itself back in less hostile space and the repairs got underway, their composure under fire eased off and tempers flared again.

“I don’t care if you want the warp drive ready yesterday, Chakotay. There’s three decks to rebuild, and when I say I need two days to decontaminate the dilithium crystals we’ve found, I mean two days. Not twenty hours. Not thirty. Now, let me do my job.”

Chakotay could almost hear B’Elanna’s grinding her teeth. He strode out of Engineering, stepped into the turbolift with murder on his mind, lobbed “Commander, you’ve got the bridge” at Tuvok and marched into the ready room.

He wanted to believe that the Shabma's telepathic thoughts had somehow affected the crew’s attitude, but he knew that the tension pervading the ship came from a much closer source. One he would have to confront soon.

Leaning against the ready room replicator, he forced his breathing to slow down. When a cup of tea appeared, he settled on the couch, a PADD in his hand. After ten minutes, he had re-read the same screen twice and still had no idea what the report was about. The chime at the door broke through his muddle. “Enter,” he said.

The door of the ready room closed behind Tuvok, who remained a few feet from the exit, hands by his side. “Commander, may I speak to you?”

The two men stared at each other, Chakotay scowling, Tuvok his usual impervious self. Chakotay knew perfectly well what the Vulcan wanted to talk to him about.

“She is not dead yet,” he uttered.

“Indeed, she is not,” Tuvok said, approaching the ready room desk. He put his hands behind his back. “However, Captain Janeway’s hurried departure has left a void which is making the crew restless and uncertain. Apart from being Starfleet procedure, announcing a new captain would bring back stability and discipline. Our recent clash with the Shabma can attest to that. The crew followed your orders in time of danger. They will do the same now that danger has passed, but they need the certainty of an established command structure.”

Chakotay put the PADD on the table, the anger which filled him ebbing under the inherent truth of Tuvok’s words. “Take her place? Sit in her chair? Move in her quarters? It feels a lot like we want to forget her before she’s even gone.”

Tuvok straightened his back. “Captain Janeway is my friend too. And I speak in the name of that friendship. While I deeply regret she is no longer among us, I know that she wouldn’t want the manner of her leaving to affect the crew any longer than necessary.”

Chakotay could taste the bitterness rising once again in his chest. “And what do you recommend? A memorial to Captain Janeway's grand vision to get us home? A commendation for valour for sacrificing herself to save the ship?”

“Many species, Vulcans included, deal better with a loss when they can come together to acknowledge it. A farewell where friends gather to remember the woman who guided them for the past four years would seem appropriate.”

“Neelix must have rubbed off on you,” Chakotay snorted.

“His methods can be somewhat irking, but he is closely attuned to the mood of the crew. He has discussed with me several recent incidents where tempers flared among crew members. I have talked to those so afflicted and taken no action against them. However, the situation will not resolve by itself and cannot be left to last much longer.”

“You should have brought those crew members to my attention. I would have dealt with them.” Chakotay closed his eyes. He was _Voyager_ 's captain in all but the pips on his collar, and didn't have the time to deal with crew’s peccadillos anymore. Tuvok had picked up the slack, adding to his already full schedule as _Voyager_ ’s security and tactical officer. “Why can’t you become the captain, Tuvok?” he sighed before opening his eyes at the realisation he had muttered those words aloud.

“Sorry,” he said, sitting up. He pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to clear his mind. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that. But it’s only because the captain needed me to keep the Maquis crew under control that I became first officer. In all logic, you should have been promoted, and you would be the captain now.”

“Promoting you over me to the rank of first officer because of your role as Maquis leader was indeed Captain Janeway’s primary objective when she offered you the position. Since that time however, you have shown a keen adherence to Starfleet basic principles, which fully validated her choice.”

Chakotay shrugged. “You too are Starfleet through and through.”

“That is true. But, like Captain Janeway, as well as exceptional commanding skills, you display a keen understanding of crew dynamics. You understand what makes them...tick, I believe Mr Paris would say.”

Chakotay wasn’t so sure. The crew was confused, lost, and he hadn’t listened. His reluctance to accept the role of captain was not helping them.

“You are the best captain this ship needs now,” Tuvok added, “as you were the best first officer its former captain could ask for to stand by her side. You anchored and complemented her, and never hesitated in confronting her when she faltered.”

“Not enough to make her stay,” Chakotay threw back. And that was the crux of his distress. That he hadn’t been strong enough to stop her. That she’d stepped off the bridge and out of his life, and he’d done nothing.

“Be as it may, make no mistake, Commander. Captain Janeway left _Voyager_ to save the ship. But she also trusted you to be the person to lead the crew for the next few decades of our journey. Such trust is not a gift. Nor is it a reward for your accomplishments while serving under her. It is a duty you cannot ignore or thrust aside.”

Chakotay’s shoulders slumped, his temper dulled by the wisdom of the man standing in front of him. “I would gladly give my commander bar away to have her back.”

“As would I. But our feelings of loss cannot hide the fact that this crew requires stability in these troubled times and would feel safer knowing that they’ll be in good hands once more.”

“Flattery, Tuvok?” Chakotay said.

“Simple deduction. You bring inspiration and passion, essential elements for a ship on a long journey, where I can only offer them logic. And logic is not enough in our situation.”

Only his stubbornness and grief had prevented Chakotay from accepting that the time had come for him to become who he had once been, a long time ago and in another part of the galaxy. He did owe it to this crew, and even more to Kathryn, to step up to the challenge facing him. “I can see why Captain Janeway spoke highly of your advice, Tuvok. I could do with such counsel myself at times. Will you accept the position of first officer?”

Tuvok tilted his head. “It will be an honour, Captain.”

“Then, your first task, Commander, is to assemble the senior officers in the briefing room. I will meet you there in half an hour. In the meantime, I'll go and talk to Neelix.”

On his way to the mess hall, he wondered what Starfleet would think of a former Maquis now leading one of their ships. But Starfleet was a long way away, and none of his concern.

**⁂**

He still didn’t know how he had lived through the farewell ceremony without breaking down or hitting a bulkhead. It would have been easier if there had been a body to launch into space at the whistle of the bosun, a Federation flag draped over the torpedo case. Then his loss would have been tangible, as heart wrenching as that would have felt.

What they were doing, what he was doing, was breaking off the chain that joined former Captain Janeway to _Voyager_ , one link at a time. He had emptied her quarters, appropriated her ready room, taken her command seat. Four pips were now fastened on his collar, branding him _Voyager_ ’s new captain. Tuvok sat on his left, the bridge crew promoted to fill the vacancies. It felt like they were erasing Kathryn, even as they remembered her with heartfelt tributes.

Harry talked about how the captain had put him at ease on his first day on the ship. He touched his two pips as if he regretted they had come at too high a price.

Overcome by emotion, B'Elanna told of Janeway putting the ship in her hands, showing trust in her at a time when the young Maquis rebel was not even sure if she could trust herself. Then Carey, the Doctor, Tom, Ayala, Seven, the entire crew regardless of rank or former loyalty, told their stories until the early hours of the morning, Neelix sombrely passing hot drinks and food around.

Chakotay said very little, but nobody commented on his few words.

Back in his quarters, he took his new pips off and lined them on the bedside table, one by one, before undressing and stepping into the shower. Putting his hands against the wall, he let his own grief cascade over him, tears mixing with the water pooling at his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from ‘Les Conquérants’, José Maria de Hérédia (1893)


	3. For darkness restores what light cannot repair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously:  
>  _Four pips were now fastened on his collar, branding him Voyager’s new captain. Tuvok sat on his left, the bridge crew promoted to fill the vacancies. It felt like they were erasing Kathryn, even as they remembered her with heartfelt tributes._

The dream came to her one night, its warning brutal and bare.

Almost invisible against the darkness consuming it, the shuttle tumbles bow over aft in slow motion. The night has long ago bled into the cabin, brushing against the internal bulkheads before seeping into every gap.

A faint red glow inside illuminates the ghost of a lone human figure sitting at the helm, a black and red uniform hanging over bleached bones. Empty eye sockets watch outwards for signs of life, while bare teeth gleam white under an absent nose in a grimace of pain and despair. Another slow tumble, and the neck snaps. The skull slowly drifts off, long strands of grey hair floating around it like a shroud. It bounces a few times off the shuttle walls before crumpling into white dust until nothing is left.

A date flicks over on the console screen, empty of meaning against a sea of nothingness: 2435, May 20.

**⁂**

The cold was her constant companion. Mornings were the hardest when she had to leave the relative warmth of the cot. Over the past week, Kathryn had dropped the temperature by another two degrees to conserve energy, as the idea took shape in her head.

It had taken her days of hard thinking to find a way to escape the void alive. Days of more despair, of almost giving up the thought she might save herself. Because what was the point? Even if she were to leave this emptiness, the shuttle’s meagre speed precluded ever reaching Earth within her lifetime.

Those thoughts circled her mind, tightening like a noose, but she fought them, in contrast to what she had done in her last weeks on _Voyager_. Then, she had abandoned hope and succour, barricading herself in her quarters and her thoughts within her mind. Going back to what she’d done. To what she’d condemned her crew, and her family too. The only piece of her past life she still had, a holoimage of Mark, Molly and herself, she’d put in a drawer by the bed, her younger self condemning her now. Gifts from alien shores surrounded her on the shelves, from a man who was much too understanding and kind when all she’d done was throw away his life and those of the rest of the crew in a pique of righteousness and selfishness.

She pulled a poncho fashioned out of an emergency blanket over the uniform jacket she’d slept in. Her fingers clutched the cup of soup she’d heated with a phaser, feeding more from its warmth than its contents. In contrast, her feet were forever icy cold, even with two pairs of socks on.

And still, Chakotay had come in daily. Persistent, forbearing. And rightly reminding her of her duties to ship and crew. He had lived through terrible times and had endured, never one to fall into helplessness as she’d done. She could do worse than follow his example.

The soup finished, she put her working gloves on, ready to start on the day’s work, checking and re-checking her calculations.

As the never-ending night filled all she could see, it was as if the mere act of moving, or having a goal had started to erase the darkness within. As if there could be hope again when only guilt and grief had ruled her mind before. And because she was no longer pushing life away, she sought to find a solution to her predicament. A solution which would see her not only escape the void but also the dire consequences of her imposed loneliness. She would be hard-pressed to survive months of travel alone and in darkness with her sanity intact, with no other company than a computer and a mind set to destroy itself if left to roam idle.

It was that dream, a nightmare rather, which had given her the idea. She was going to build herself a coffin within a tomb. Instead of avoiding death, she would flirt with it, burrow into its open arms until there would be no knowing if she was still alive, or merely asleep. She would let the cold of space enter the shuttle and it would become her new way of living—immobile, unconscious, unbreathing—only surviving by bedding death itself. With all the remaining energy diverted to the engines, the shuttle had a chance—scant, but real—to fly through the void before its fuel reserves were gone.

It was a gamble. There was no guarantee the contraption she had yet to build would work, let alone last four years. Her chances were so slim that even Tuvok would not have dared calculate the odds. But it was only her life she was gambling this time.

**⁂**

_Kathryn Janeway, personal log._

_Day seventeen._

_Computer, include stardate here._

_I estimate I will finish what I am optimistically calling a stasis pod within the next two weeks. Then I will make my final decision. To die a slow and sure death in a few months, or take the plunge and put myself at death’s mercy ahead of my allocated time. I’ve cheated death so many times, it feels like a companionable presence, following me down whatever path I choose. If something was to go wrong during my deep sleep, I will feel nothing. But the alternative, to see my last days doing nothing than stare into the night, is more than I can bear._

She looked at her reflection in the front screen. There was little left of the optimistic captain who had taken _Voyager_ on its long journey home four years prior. She wasn’t sure anymore who that woman had been, but she knew that younger self had slowly disappeared in a void as big as the night outside, despite all pretence to the contrary.

If she was not to die, would her future self be thankful for the delay? What was she going to find on the other side of the void? The fuel reserves depleted, she would have only one try at replenishing her food stores, finding some much needed dilithium, and gathering information as to the path ahead. The same tasks which had kept awake on _Voyager_ on many nights, would now prove crucial for her survival.

She trusted Chakotay and Tuvok had not delayed getting back on course for the Alpha quadrant once back in normal space. _Voyager_ had to get home as fast as it could, and it would have been reckless and cruel of them to lose all the time she had gained the ship just to wait for her. Four years were no trifle even in a journey counted in decades.

Her fingers stiffened, then relaxed. They wouldn’t. They couldn’t.

By now, B’Elanna had surely calculated the shuttle wouldn’t make it. By now, Chakotay had put her personal things in storage, re-arranged her ready room to his taste, was commanding her ship from her bridge chair. Her name was written in the ship logs, missing in action, presumed dead, next to it. She was one more name to add to a long list of dead crew members. Soon, her face would fade from the crew’s memory.

A shiver ran down her back. The night that surrounded her felt more appealing than being forgotten by all.

All but one man. He had not forsaken her when she was drowning inside the darkness of her own mind. He had sought her out, brought fresh air and distraction even if only for a moment before she’d pushed him out. He cared for her. Too much, too strongly for how she’d treated him in return for all those years. He would not forget her, but how does one deal with the knowledge that the person you care for will be dead before long?

If he had gone missing but somehow survived, she knew in her heart that she would want to know he was still alive, even if she were never to see him again. Maybe the currents and eddies of deep space would deliver a message to him once she was safely out of the void. Stranger things had happened during their voyage home.

“Computer, record this message.

To Captain Chakotay.

Chakotay—”

She hesitated. Should she be more honest and address him the way her heart felt about him? Would it be fair to let him know of her love for him when distance and time conspired to keep them apart forever? It had been weak of her not to tell him before, but she couldn’t add callousness now to cowardice.

“Sorry about the plasma gel on my hands and hair. Poor B'Elanna would be horrified at what I’ve done to one of her shuttles. But see”—she set the computer camera to scan the busy space behind her—“I wanted to tell you that I haven't given up, like I did when I hid in my quarters. I stopped trying then, and you rightly called me on my selfish behaviour. I am glad you did, because I am building what I hope will be a way out.”

Her voice wavered. “If you were here, you would tell me I’m doing the right thing. No ifs, no buts. If you were here...” She caressed the screen before clasping her hands together. “But enough of me. I’m sorry about the way I have forced upon you the role of captain. I have no doubt the crew is following you with the same loyalty they showed me. They are truly exceptional people, but you knew that already. I also don't need to tell you about being _Voyager_ ’s captain. After all, you will have been at the helm for four years by the time I send this message…”

Her eyes stared at the emptiness outside. The external sensors were silent: there was nothing to detect in the middle of the void. The soft whirring of the engines was the only sound to be heard.

A few minutes passed before she turned off the recording without finishing it and turned back to her tasks.

**⁂**

A large shape looking very much like a bathtub squatted in the centre of the cabin. She had dismantled the surplus seats. The auxiliary console had been next, then the folded benches in the back compartment, followed by the sonic shower and ablution recess. The bulkhead between the main cabin and the back compartment had taken her three days of back-breaking work to knock down. She was building a cryogenic stasis pod out of waste pipes, tritanium plates and chair legs.

Her days grew progressively longer as she ignored the clock until she could work non-stop for four shifts in a row before needing some sleep. Then she'd crash on the cot before starting all over again. Progress was slow as she had to make do with what hardware she could cannibalise from the shuttle, while using the replicator sparingly.

She left herself no time to think.

**⁂**

Conduits hung from the ceiling, pipes and cables snaking on the floor. The lighting was so dim, she could hardly see the far side of the back compartment. It was a dismal sight.

She picked up a glass of water she’d left overnight on a console. It was frozen solid, and she lost small patches of skin from the tips of her fingers before putting her gloves back on.

Why was she torturing herself? Why was she so intent on living when living was so hard?

What if a stray gamma ray were to circumvent the lowered shields and fry the computer interface while she was inside that coffin?

What if she was to awaken well short of her goal?

What if her body shrivelled as a result of the makeshift cryogenic process?

What if her mind remained aware during that near-death?

What if? What ifs? Too many to consider. Too many she had no control over.

All she had was her will to honour the love of a good man.

She looked down at her hands, found them steady, and returned to work.

**⁂**

Thirty-two days after she’d left _Voyager_ , she entered the stasis pod and sealed her fate for the next four years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from ‘On Love’, Joseph Brodsky (1971)


	4. Carthago delenda est

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously:  
>  _I wanted to tell you that I haven't given up, like I did when I hid in my quarters. I stopped trying then, and you rightly called me on my selfish behaviour. I am glad you did, because I am building what I hope will be a way out._

The screen on the far wall of Admiral Nechayev’s office showed _Voyager_ still in its cradle at the Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards, its registry number proudly written on the prow. Owen Paris looked at it with affection tinged with sadness. That was the ship his son was piloting and would bring him back home. It was also the ship which had lost its first-ever captain, a loss which saddened him greatly.

“I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all,” Nechayev said in that icy tone of hers, yanking Owen back to the conversation. “A year ago, we got a message from that EMH of theirs that _Voyager_ had not been destroyed after all in the Badlands, but had been thrown instead seventy thousand light-years into the Delta quadrant. Captain Janeway is bringing it home, as she should. And then, two days ago, out of the blue, we learned she abandoned her ship and has been presumed dead for months.”

Owen bristled. “Captain Janeway didn’t abandon _Voyager_. According to the logs we’ve received, she left to save her crew from years of travelling through a vast space empty of any planets or suns.” He wasn’t going to sit here and let Janeway be accused of desertion.

Nechayev lifted an eyebrow, as if surprised he didn’t agree with her argument. “Whatever her motives were, we’ve now got a Starfleet ship captained by the very same Maquis leader Janeway was tasked to bring to justice, and the majority of the ship’s key positions in the hands of non-Starfleet personnel, rebels and defectors.”

Paris’ hand tightened in his lap.

“No offense, Owen,” she added belatedly.

“None taken,” he said between gritted teeth. It wasn’t like Tom had covered himself in glory prior to his departure on _Voyager._ Still, he had proved himself many times since according to the ship’s logs. “It was Captain Janeway who chose them for those positions. We should trust her judgement.”

“Trust her judgement? Welcoming the Maquis with open arms was a grave dereliction of her duties in the first place,” Nechayev continued.

He knew Janeway would never had taken such a path without thinking hard about the consequences. “She had little choice. She’d lost most of her senior officers and her ship found itself stranded decades from the Federation.”

“And whose fault was that? The woman marooned her own ship. And to add insult to injury, in full contravention of the Prime Directive!”

Paris had known Kathryn Janeway all her life, had followed her career and witnessed her strength of character on many occasions, one instance still lodged in his bones for its brutality when they’d both fallen into the hands of the Cardassians. However, he didn’t think Nechayev would be mollified by a story which was still classified as far as he knew. “Kathryn Janeway was an exceptional officer. If the circumstances of _Voyager_ ’s first flight had turned out differently, she would have been a great asset to Starfleet war efforts.”

“We do agree on one point. That ship would have much more useful here, staffed by a proper Starfleet crew, instead of it gallivanting through the Delta quadrant while we are at war,” Nechayev said in a curt tone. “Your support for your former protégée is commendable, but we cannot ignore the facts as we know them. Starfleet Command has asked me to update them about the _Voyager_ problem before I go and inspect the _Avant-Garde_ project at the Fleet Yards. So, let’s wrap up our discussion as quickly as possible.”

Owen refrained from rolling his eyes. The new _Avant-Garde_ class of very fast ships. Even the name sounded pretentious, but it was Gustafson’s pet project and she had the backing of many among Starfleet. Call him old-fashioned, but the very idea of the enormous speed that ship was supposed to reach didn’t appeal to him. There was something to be said for systematic exploration instead of a quick fly-over and then back home for dinner. As to the usefulness of such high-speed ships in a battle, he had his doubts. However, this wasn’t the time to bring those up.

“I never realised _Voyager_ was considered a problem,” he said. “Last year, everyone—from the Federation president to the families of the lost crew—was very happy to hear the news that _Voyager_ ’s crew was alive and well. I don’t see what has changed since to make Starfleet suddenly so distrustful.”

“That was twelve months ago. Starfleet Command is justifiably concerned about the additional security risks _Voyager_ now poses. We have a state-of-the-art Starfleet vessel in the hands of people who have no loyalty to Federation’s principles and even less to Starfleet. If an enemy race bent on expansion were to—”

“—The only species from the Delta quadrant that has expressed the slightest interest in us are the Borg,” Owen interrupted, “and they knew of the Federation well before Janeway met them. _Voyager_ did escape their encounter relatively scot-free, from what I gathered from Captain Janeway’s logs.”

Nechayev tilted her head in disbelief. “She tried to make a deal with them, Owen. No Starfleet captain in their right mind would have had the audacity to do that, let alone bring a drone on board their ship! That is exactly what Starfleet Command should be concerned about. God knows what else she would have brought back to the Federation in _Voyager_ ’s cargo hold if she’d stayed as captain.”

Not only Nechayev had a grudge against the Maquis, Janeway was her target too. That didn’t augur well for _Voyager_ ’s future.

“But first things first. How did _Voyager_ manage to contact us again? I thought the ancient relay network they used before was well out of range by now,” Nechayev asked.

This he could comment on. “After last year’s contact, I put Lieutenant Barclay in charge of working on a more reliable way to communicate with _Voyager_. Two days ago, we activated a new comms array. It uses hyper-subspace technology to—”

Nechayev waved her hand. “—Just give me the summary.”

“I talked to Captain Chakotay directly.” Nechayev flinched at his use of the Maquis rank, but let it pass. “He was the one who told me the sad news of Captain Janeway’s passing. Without being prompted, he also transmitted a compressed file of the ship’s logs, science reports, and navigational logs which I forwarded to you. He has also tasked his chief engineer to send us complete schematics of all the technology they have gleaned so far on their journey. The main issue is that re-establishing a stable comms link will depend on _Voyager_ ’s route. It might take several months before we get all that information. In between times, the crew’s morale is paramount, and I’ve made the decision to prioritise personal messages from and to their families over less essential demands.”

If he thought the gesture from the ship’s rightful captain would mollify Nechayev, her next words put that idea to rest. “Now you understand my concerns,” she said, both hands on the desk. “The whole situation has security issues written all over it. While the Dominion War has shown us what Starfleet captains and officers are made of, _Voyager_ ’s people remain unproven, and their loyalty is questionable. For all we know, the Maquis on _Voyager_ could be brewing something again. I have said before that they were a bunch of irresponsible hotheads. With a Starfleet ship in their hands, they could very well become much more of a threat, especially now that Cardassia is under the Dominion’s control. Aligning yourself to the enemy of your enemy has proved a favourite tactic among insurgents for millennia.”

Paris shook his head. Nechayev was getting paranoid. “I know the ship has made great progress in its journey, but it will still take them forty years to get back home. What damage could they cause?”

“I think you fail to see the wider picture,” Nechayev said, and hairs at the back of Owen’s neck rose of their own accord. This conversation was going into new territory, and decades of experience had taught him that ‘seeing the wider picture’ trumped almost any consideration of fairness or justice in times of war.

“The length of their journey is not the problem," she continued. "The news that Maquis are now in charge of a Starfleet ship could compromise our alliance with the Cardassian Liberation Front. It’s not a given that the CLF would agree to work with us if Starfleet condones _Voyager_ ’s new status. I suggest we keep this news quiet. Very quiet.”

“The CFL is one thing. The Federation morale is another. Last year, we saw a twenty per cent increase in our recruitment drive when the news came that _Voyager_ had survived,” Owen noted. “It gave hope to millions of people. A lone ship enduring against all odds paints a powerful picture of Starfleet courage and resolve. We should not be the ones to crush something so potent because we don’t like who is on the bridge.”

“Be that as it may, _Voyager_ poses a serious security risk.”

“So, what do you propose? That the crew settles on an M-class planet and blows up their own ship?” Paris retorted, his patience wearing thin. He stood to contemplate the view over the San Francisco Bay. God knows when Tom would see the same picture-perfect scenery.

“Owen…” warned Nechayev.

He wasn’t finished. “We aren’t talking about a flagship like the _Enterprise_ here. _Voyager_ is half its size, with less than two hundred crew members. However we might think we would have handled things differently, we aren’t there. We are not trying to survive another day in an unknown part of the galaxy. Even Kirk didn’t spend more than five years in a row exploring the galaxy, and those people are looking at a journey ten times longer. I can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to be the captain in such circumstances, whoever that person is.”

He turned around and leaned over the desk. “Can you, Alynna? Can you tell me without a doubt in your mind that you would have done better?”

Nechayev’s eyes dropped to her hands. “No. I have to admit, I can’t say that.” Her gaze lifted, still as hard as before. “In normal circumstances, I would have given Janeway and whoever replaced her the benefit of the doubt. But you know as well as me that we must remain vigilant. We are at war, and anything, especially when coming from left field like _Voyager_ should be considered a potential threat until proved otherwise.”

“I share your commitment to see the Federation safe, but I am thinking about that crew. Their life in the Delta quadrant is hard enough without us putting up more obstacles in front of them, even if it is a far away future yet. Imagine the backlash if it were made public that we didn’t do all we could to support them. Starfleet’s name would be dragged through the mud faster than a crashing shuttle.”

Breathing hard and feeling somewhat bashful for his emotional outburst, Owen sat back and glanced at the wall screen. _Voyager_ was starting on its shake-down flight, its elegant shape outlined against the red planet underneath, its crew and captain unaware they would soon find themselves very far from home.

Nechayev lifted her chin. He’d seen that look on her before. She had made up her mind. “I am getting concerned that the presence of your son on that ship is clouding your judgement, and your rather forceful support for Chakotay, a known Maquis rebel, could be considered as a good enough reason to relieve you of all responsibilities over the Pathfinder project.”

Owen’s jaw dropped, and he half-stood, his hands on the arms of the chair. Was she implying—

She raised a hand to silence him. “However, you have made a good point about _Voyager_ being a morale boost in those difficult times. I’ll take your proposal on the subject under advisement. More importantly, _Voyager_ ’s crew trust you, which makes you the best person to stay in contact with them. You will monitor all communications to and from the ship for anything that smells like a Maquis call to arms. Their cause might still attract some people keen to take advantage of the current situation to distance themselves from the Federation. In addition, the less _Voyager_ ’s crew knows of Starfleet’s strategic position against the Dominion forces the better, so you will ensure that messages from their families or Starfleet colleagues do not include tactical details about the war. In the meantime, I’ll ask Commander Tuvok to send regular tactical and security reports directly to me.”

“You’ll be undermining Captain Chakotay’s authority,” Owen said in a last-ditch effort.

“I’ll be doing nothing of the sort. As fleet admiral, _Voyager_ comes under my purview. If the man is as loyal to Starfleet as you say he is, he won’t have a problem with that arrangement.” She made a point of looking at the time showing at the bottom of the wall screen. “This meeting is over, Admiral.”

Owen took his leave. He had hoped for much more, but given Nechayev’s mistrust of anything to do with _Voyager_ , and by some sort of warped osmosis, anybody who would deal with that ship and crew, he had no choice but to accept her conditions. After checking with his staff at the Pathfinder project, he returned home that evening with much on his mind. While he had faith in Janeway’s choice of her officers, a lot depended on Chakotay’s loyalty and strength of character to steer his ship back home in one piece. Unfortunately, there was little Paris could do to help him. _Voyager_ was, after all, a long way away.

* * *

“And you are bringing this to my attention because…?”

“You are _Voyager’s_ captain.”

“A fact that Starfleet seems to have some difficulty in accepting, it seems.” Chakotay swiped the PADD Tuvok handed him. “Any idea why Starfleet Command would ask you about _Voyager_ ’s self-destruct protocols?”

“They are concerned that if the ship were to fall into enemy hands, the information we carry about the Federation forces might encourage those species to invade the Alpha quadrant.”

“I wonder if they realise that most of the species we’ve encountered so far care very little for what’s happening there.”

“Starfleet admiralty is seeing this through the eyes of a Federation at war and under much pressure. I can understand their alarm.”

Chakotay sighed. “So can I. If Starfleet wants us to modify the protocols we’ve been following since _Voyager_ left Earth, I’ll have a look. But I’m not sacrificing the ship on the whim of an admiral sitting behind a desk somewhere in Starfleet headquarters. Make that clear in your response.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Tuvok left the ready room, calm and composed.

Chakotay was glad the Vulcan was as loyal to him as he had been to Janeway. Starfleet was understandably suspicious of _Voyager_ ’s former Maquis captain, even if there was very little they could do about it. At least they had an ally in Admiral Owen Paris, although he suspected the news they received from Starfleet was heavily censored. But even if contacts were sporadic, it was good for the crew’s morale to spend much of the available bandwidth sending messages to their families ahead of ship’s reports.

He forced himself to relax. There was no point in losing sleep over some admiral’s mistrust. Starfleet was, after all, a long way away.

* * *

“The Delta quadrant? You want to send the _Khonsu_ to the Delta quadrant for its first mission? That’s…” Riker couldn’t even find the right word. Ridiculous didn’t sound very Starfleet of him. “You can’t be serious,” he added, lamely.

Nechayev tapped her fingers on the small ready room table, while Gustafson glowered. Dealing with her on an almost daily basis had not been an easy task. She was a stickler for minutiae and had shown little interest in his numerous suggestions for improvement.

“Captain Riker,”—Nechayev made sure he heard the ‘captain’ part loud and clear—“I had hoped that Captain Picard’s occasional fondness for arguing Starfleet orders had not brushed off on you too. If you won’t accept this mission, I’ll find somebody who will.”

Picard had been right about his first officer’s procrastination. Riker was fully enjoying the responsibilities which came with the rank of captain. However, for the first time since he had added the fourth pip to his collar, Riker wondered if he shouldn’t have stayed on the _Enterprise_. At least his former ship was not expected to hurtle into an unknown region of space, supposedly to rescue a ship Nechayev and others in the admiralty had in their crosshairs from what he’d heard.

Although, if he was honest with himself, he was interested. He was far from reckless he’d always thought, despite ample evidence to the contrary on his records, but the risks and the unknown did sharpen his sense of adventure. And after five months watching over the _Khonsu_ ’s fitting-out at the _Utopia Planitia_ Fleet Yards followed by a short but successful shake-down, he itched to fly a real mission. Still…

“My apologies, Admiral. It’s just I wish I had been told a bit earlier. Such a long mission and so soon is a surprise.”

Nechayev nodded. “We can’t afford the Dominion to get a whiff of the _Khonsu_ ’s capabilities before we are ready to put other ships of that class into service, which will take longer than anticipated. Unfortunately, the ship will attract too much attention if it starts crisscrossing Federation space at maximum speed, and sending it into Dominion territory for reconnaissance missions has been deemed too dangerous for the moment.”

But the Delta quadrant was safer? That was news to him.

“A deep space assignment is an ideal compromise,” Gustafson said. Repatriating _Voyager_ ’s crew will provide an excellent test of the _Khonsu_ ’s full potential.”

And show the admiralty what they were missing by not supporting an immediate expansion of the project. Riker was astute enough to read between the lines, even if he had little knowledge and even less interest in Starfleet Command's internal politics.

“It will also provide some well-needed good news to the public, as Admiral Paris outlined when updating Starfleet Command last on _Voyager_ ’s status. I don’t need to tell you that the war is at a crossroads and we need to keep the Federation population on board with the sacrifices we are demanding of it,” Nechayev added.

There were too many undercurents for him to untangle right now. “All that might be true, but I’m sure Captain Chakotay would understand if we want to fine-tune the _Khonsu_ for a few more months at least before sending it on a such a long-haul rescue mission. The crew needs more time to get—”

It was as if Nechayev hadn’t heard him, although he didn’t miss her scowl at Chakotay’s name. “— _Voyager_ is currently forty thousand light-years from Earth. Once you depart, we’ll order it to make haste to close the gap. It will be a four-year deep space mission at the most. Nothing that you haven't done before, Captain.”

On the _Enterprise_. With more than a thousand people on board as well as two hundred photon torpedoes at his disposal if anything went wrong. The _Khonsu_ was fast, no question about that, but not well armed.

Gustafson pushed a PADD across the desk. “To accommodate _Voyager_ ’s crew, the _Khonsu_ will have to operate with a reduced crew. Here's an updated list of the positions you’ll have under your command.”

Riker quickly read through the roll. Two _Avant-Garde_ warp specialists instead of the five he had worked with during the shakedown cruise, an EMH, a pared-down maintenance crew, three pilots, a first officer-cum-tactical officer, and—

“A psychologist?”

“To monitor the _Khonsu_ crew for any side effects from the new warp drive,” Gustafson said. “Some medical experts have posited that there’s the potential for subspace stress to alter higher order brain functions the longer a ship spends close to warp ten. Nothing to worry about from what I’ve read.”

Nice to be told just before the ship was sent on a deep space journey that their brains could turn to mush.

Nechayev leaned forward. “We are also concerned about the former Maquis crew members on board _Voyager_. With the Dominion War ongoing, Starfleet is keen to avoid a potential resurgence of malcontents within our space. The psychologist will be tasked with assessing their allegiance to Federation principles and compliance to Starfleet orders. I believe your wife would be a suitable candidate given her role on the Pathfinder project.”

This mission was getting better and better. The security of the Federation was paramount in everyone’s mind, but his role wasn't going to be made easy if he had to treat half of _Voyager_ ’s crew like potential criminals.

“Once you have rendezvoused, you will transfer _Voyager_ ’s crew onto the _Khonsu_. If the need arises, you’ll be allowed to include any Starfleet member from _Voyager_ into your own crew, but only once they’ve been vetted by both the psychologist on board and our team here. However, we do strongly recommend that you do not allow a former Maquis to serve in any capacity on your ship. Is that understood?”

“Would you prefer me to put them in the brig as soon as they step foot on the _Khonsu_?” Riker asked, not pretending he liked his orders.

Nechayev looked at him as if he was a mere cadet. Her death glare had no rival in the admiralty. “Given Starfleet can’t communicate with you when the _Khonsu_ attains its maximum warp speed, I want to make sure you understand what’s at stake here, in particular regarding Chakotay’s status. We can't run the risk of a Maquis renegade of his calibre taking over the _Khonsu_. You will confine him to quarters for the duration of the voyage home.”

“What—?”

“And one more thing, Captain Riker. Before setting a course back to the Alpha quadrant, you will destroy _Voyager_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this is an AU, I have taken the liberty of moving the Pathfinder project to mid-2375, or one year earlier than canon. And marrying Troi and Riker four years earlier than in the TNG movie - Nemesis.
> 
>  _Khonsu_ was the Egyptian god of the Moon. The name means 'Traveller'.


	5. Captain Chakotay, I presume?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously:  
>  _And one more thing, Captain Riker. Before setting a course back to the Alpha quadrant, you will destroy_ Voyager.

Thoughts made of treacle. Slow. Heavy. By the time she caught one, she'd forgotten what triggered it.

Chakotay bent over her, his frown implying urgency, his dark eyes pleading. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear his words, just a low rumble which started and stopped, only to restart again. He was telling her to…

...wake up?

The red alert rushed into her skull, and the adrenaline pumped in her veins. Was that it? Had the shuttle reached the end of the void? Were there truly stars outside?

The pod lid finally lifted. Shivering hard, she pushed herself upright, her left hand sticking to the icy metal. It was dreadfully cold in the cabin, and even more so in her heart when she saw only darkness through the viewscreen already fogging with her breath. The long-range sensors remained silent.

A glance at the date flashing on the console ahead. One year, three months, and five days since she’d left _Voyager_. There were still close to three years to go before she’d see light and feel warm again. An errant gamma ray must have hit a sensor at the wrong angle, triggering the wake-up program. Even in the void, energy was all around her, radiation flooding the shuttle at random intervals, and while fickle and weak, it would kill her if she woke up too often.

Another glance, at the fuel reserves this time. There was enough, but it took too much of the shuttle’s meagre reserves to bring the pod back from standby, revive her, heat up the shuttle and make the stale air breathable. She would have to input new parameters to avoid initiating the wake-up procedures too early again.

She yanked her numbed hand free from the side of the pod, leaving much of the skin of the palm and fingers behind, before wrapping herself in a thermal blanket and pulling on boots. Then she spent an hour resetting the sensitivity of the external sensors. Too low and she’d never wake up. Too high and the shuttle would use its remaining fuel reserves for nothing and never leave the void.

It was only after she lowered herself into the coffin that she noticed a red light blinking on the comms console. Her message to Chakotay was still waiting, but there was no point in ever sending it. The shuttle was too slow, _Voyager_ too far away, reaching the Alpha quadrant an impossibility.

The familiar skies of Earth and the smiles of her crew were out of her reach. She would never touch the chest of the man who’d flown ahead, or feel the strong beat of his heart under her palm. But, she would survive. More than ever, she wanted to leave this emptiness which suffocated her, this prison made of nothingness where her own thoughts were the only ones she could hear.

The lid of the pod closed. The rumble steadied. The cold of space returned.

She slept.

* * *

Once the news Starfleet was sending a ship to rescue the crew sank in, _Voyager_ ploughed ever faster through the Delta quadrant. In sharp contrast with previous years, they encountered more friendly species than hostile ones, and the ship made good speed. Chakotay could not help feeling guilty though when they rushed past fascinating spatial anomalies which _Voyager_ ’s former captain would have taken the time to investigate. Likewise, shore leaves were kept short and trade limited to essentials.

Two years later, it seemed their haste had been worthwhile.

“I’ve just confirmed the news with Pathfinder,” he said to the small group of senior officers assembled in the briefing room. “The _Khonsu_ will meet with us within two months.”

“It will be the longest couple of months of my life,” Tom said with a grin.

Chakotay couldn’t help a smile. It had been good to see Tom reconcile with his father, who had also been of great help when Starfleet needs for more information threatened to take over time dedicated to private conversations between crew members and their families.

“Captain, I understand it might be too early to ask, but do you know what Starfleet has in mind for us when we get back?” Kim queried.

“No, Harry,” Chakotay said. “I ask every time we contact Pathfinder, and every time I get the same answer. Starfleet Command will evaluate the crew first.”

“Well, I’m telling you, they are not happy about us, the Maquis.” B’Elanna had warmed to the idea of going back home faster than she’d anticipated, but she still had reservations. “Isn’t that true, Chakotay?”

He pushed his hand through his short hair. “I really don’t know.” His thoughts aligned with B’Elanna’s, but this wasn’t the time to dampen the crew’s enthusiasm.

“Come on, Chakotay. They aren’t happy with you being in command, and it doesn’t take much imagination to realise they aren’t very impressed with the former Maquis. The Starfleet crew will be received with fanfare, while we’ll be lucky if we’ve still got a job the moment we enter Federation space.”

“I don’t mind,” Ayala said, wistfully. “All I want is to be with my boys and my wife. Letters and a few minutes of face-to-face conversation here and there aren't the same.”

“Captain Janeway would have been a powerful sponsor in pushing for your acknowledgement as qualified Starfleet officers,” Seven interjected.

Yes, she would have. If it had not been for the void, she would have been the one talking to Starfleet and making sure all _Voyager_ ’s crew members received the recognition they deserved. Because God knew how two former Borg drones would be accepted within the Federation. Another question of his that had remained unanswered so far, despite many queries. “As I said, we’ll have to wait.”

“They must have made their mind up, one way or the other,” B’Elanna insisted. “I mean, the war with the Dominion ended more than a year ago. So, what’s keeping Starfleet from giving you a straight answer? Even Tom’s father doesn’t know what’s going on, or doesn’t want to tell us what he thinks will happen. In my opinion, that’s not a good sign.”

“You've made many allies for the Federation, and your discoveries will become legendary,” Neelix said with his usual enthusiasm. “I’m sure Starfleet will appreciate your good deeds.”

It wasn't the good deeds Chakotay was concerned about, but those which shadowed the pasts of many on the ship. However, that was for him to worry about. Two more months and their journey home would be measured in years rather than decades. Whatever was waiting them in the Alpha quadrant, _Voyager_ ’s crew would be back home, and that was all that counted.

He watched the star-light outside the briefing room window, lining _Voyager_ 's path home.

If only Kathryn had been there to see it all.

* * *

The _Khonsu_ surged ahead of its attackers. Riker itched to return fire, but the armament at his disposal was not that formidable. It still hurt, though, to run away once again. “What’s our situation, Number One?”

“Four ships in pursuit, Captain, but they are falling behind.”

Tortoises chasing a hare. They would soon get tired like all the ships the _Khonsu_ had encountered previously. “Stand down red alert. Damage?”

“The rear shield is down forty per cent. I’ve sent a repair team.”

It was almost always the stern shield which got hit first. By the time enemy ships realised something was coming their way, the _Khonsu_ had already flown past, and they spent their energy hitting the back of the ship. Something to remember to add to his now-long list of recommendations for the next _Avant-Garde_ ship coming out of the Fleet Yards: reinforce the rear shielding.

“Good job, Commander.”

The first officer turned around with a smile on his boyish face. Everyone on the bridge was so young. Riker would have preferred more experienced people, but Starfleet had dragged their feet at the last minute, the Dominion War demanding more and more of their seasoned staff, and he’d been forced to base his choice on Academy files, ship records, and good old word-of-mouth recommendations. No Geordi, no Data, no Worf to rely on.

He settled back in his command chair. He had a good crew. He had a good ship. Deanna was with him, and that fact alone made up for the long days when nothing more than another rushed getaway was on the cards.

“Lieutenant T’Pwur, what’s on sensors?”

Long-range communications and sensors couldn’t keep up with the _Khonsu_ ’s enormous speed, the distortions the ship made to the fabric of space itself jumbling their frequency to an undecipherable mess. It had taken the _Khonsu_ one rather close encounter with a white dwarf for Riker to realise he needed to know what was ahead of the ship much sooner than what he’d been used to when on the _Enterprise_. Only then could course corrections be made before the ship was inexorably tied to its path. Although he enjoyed making the quick decisions, it was nail-bitingly tight at times.

“There's a Mutara-class nebula lying across our course, five light-years away, sir.”

He doubted the ship shields would withstand crossing such a nebula. Great speed also came at the price of reliable forcefields. “How big?”

“Eighty light-years wide. If we maintain our current speed, it will take us two days to go around it.”

Riker smiled. When she’d first set foot on the bridge, his navigation officer would never have provided that information without being prompted. After two years of working together, she knew he wanted the data sooner rather than later.

“Calculate the new course and transfer the coordinates to the helm, Lieutenant. Helm, engage when ready. Commander, you’ve got the bridge.”

“Aye, sir.”

The windows of the ready room were only small elongated slits, and he had to remain standing to see the streaks of light that were the stars outside. They didn’t look that different from what he had looked at for years on the _Enterprise_. The _Khonsu_ might fly twenty times faster than his venerable former ship, but the illusion of speed was just that. An illusion. Deanna had smiled when he had told her of his disappointment at not seeing real proof they were going faster than anybody else had before. It was one more comment to enter in her psychological evaluations of the crew.

He grabbed the insulated jug and poured himself half a cup of coffee. Everything was rationed: replicator access, quarters, recreational activities. It would only get worse when _Voyager_ ’s crew came on board.

He chuckled. So what? Picard had been right. He had become too comfortable as first officer of the _Enterprise_. Although this mission hadn’t been quite what he had envisaged back when he’d first set eyes on the ship’s blueprints. He would have liked to explore this quadrant, not whiz through like a thunderbolt. A normal ship would have taken a month to go around that nebula, or spent weeks attempting to cross it, all the while studying it and adding more information to the Federation knowledge database. In contrast, the _Khonsu_ would be flying past in a couple of days. Nebulas, novas and all kinds of spatial phenomena vanished under the stern as fast as they appeared. Likewise, contacts with new species were abruptly shortened, the ship already out of their territories by the time their first hails, friendly or otherwise, arrived.

Riker reviewed the ship course on his PADD. Close to the Alpha quadrant, most warp-capable societies had heard of the Federation and Starfleet and had been willing to let the _Khonsu_ travel through unimpeded. Here, in the dark heart of the Delta quadrant, things were different. As the _Khonsu_ flew ever deeper into the unknown in its haste to reach its goal, hostile species sprung ahead of its course at an exponential rate.

He sunk in his chair and put his feet on the table. How had _Voyager_ managed to survive for more than six years, a lone ship thrown into a completely unchartered part of the galaxy? He couldn't imagine how its crew and captain had hoped to live through seventy more years of negotiating their way through swarms of species who took umbrage at anyone crossing their borders, and spatial anomalies big enough to swallow their ship a hundred times over.

 _Voyager_ was the real thing, its crew the real explorers. Up with Kirk and the original _Enterprise_ , in his opinion. In less than a week, he would finally speak to them face to face and hear for himself what they had discovered and how they had survived.

And then, he would scuttle their ship.

He dropped the PADD in his lap, a bad taste rising in his mouth.

* * *

~Captain, it’s the _Khonsu_!~ Ensign Peters said over the comms. ~They are hailing us.~

Chakotay grabbed his combadge off the bedside table. “Acknowledge the hail, Peters. Tell the _Khonsu_ I’ll be on the bridge in ten minutes. Alert the alpha shift bridge officers.”

~Yes, sir.~

“And Peters…”

~Sir?~

“The gamma shift is welcome to stay.”

~Thank you, sir!~ the enthusiastic response came back, making Chakotay smile.

He quickly got dressed, checked his pips were in line and his uniform wrinkle-free before walking out of his quarters. The buzz of being one step closer to home lengthened his strides. Once in the turbolift, he put his hands behind his back, tapping his fingers. How he wished it had been Kathryn welcoming the _Khonsu_. If it had not been for her, _Voyager_ would have spent too much time in the void, and Starfleet would never have contacted them and then sent a rescue ship and…

The doors of the turbolift opened. Tuvok was standing near the command chair vacated by Peters. Kim arrived half-running and took his place at Tactical, while Paris walked to the helm, relieving the gamma-shift pilot.

Nodding briskly at the sea of smiling faces, Chakotay took a last look at his people on the bridge before turning to the Ops station. The young Ensign dropped her gaze to the console. “Captain Riker is hailing us, sir.”

Chakotay took a deep breath, then faced the helm. “On screen.”

A grinning face with smiling blue eyes looked down at him. ~Captain Chakotay, I am very pleased to see you at last. I hope I didn’t get you out of bed.~

Chakotay breathed out. Even though he didn’t know the man, he already warmed to his relaxed manners. “Captain Riker, welcome to the Delta quadrant. On behalf of _Voyager_ ’s crew, I thank you and your crew for undertaking this long journey. With your arrival, we already feel much closer to home.”

~A journey which does not compare with yours. We are glad to have reached you and to see you well. We have much to organise, though.~

 _Khonsu_ ’s captain was keen and to the point. Chakotay had not expected Starfleet to send a green officer, and while _Voyager_ ’s file on Riker wasn’t extensive, it augured well that he had been, not that long ago, first officer on the famous _Enterprise_.

“We’ve mapped out a number of potential rendezvous points within ten light-years of our current position.”

~Good. The _Khonsu_ is not heavily armed and our shielding has taken a bit of a pounding lately, so I would prefer somewhere out of the way.~

“Understood. Lieutenant Kim, please send the coordinates of the fourth site on the list to the _Khonsu_. It should take us three days to get there, Captain, but it might prudent if we scout the location ahead of you.”

~I would appreciate that. Once you give me the green light, we will come by your side and start transferring your people over. The less time the _Khonsu_ stays idle, the better.~

“Of course.” Over the years, Chakotay had developed a sixth sense for reading people he met for the first time, alien or otherwise. He didn’t comment on the frown which came over Riker’s face, as if there was more to their exchange than met the eye.

The two captains exchanged a few more words to organise another contact time, then Riker cut off the communication so the _Khonsu_ could go back to high warp. _Voyager_ ’s bridge crew laughed and slapped each other’s back behind Chakotay, and he returned the good cheer. There was too much at stake to ponder Riker’s hesitation before even having met the man. For the moment at least, he was going to give the Starfleet captain the benefit of the doubt.

**⁂**

The very same evening, _Voyager_ ’s crew celebrated their good fortune in the mess hall decked with memorabilia from home. Family photos competed with small knickknacks and jewellery, among dishes from a variety of Alpha quadrant cultures. Everybody was dressed in a costume from their planet of origin, although an anthropologist might have frowned at some crew members' interpretation of their own culture.

Chakotay had stayed in uniform. He smiled, said a few words, and toasted the crew’s happiness before excusing himself and returning to his quarters.

He settled on the floor of the living area, and opened his medicine bundle, reverently selecting the objects he had collected over a lifetime. He had shown them to Kathryn only once, years back, when advising her on how to call on her animal guide. Now, he was hoping they would help him find her at last. Find her so he could tell her that they were going home and that her sacrifice to cut short the ship’s stay in the void hadn’t been in vain, even if her loss still ripped his heart. Find her and ask for forgiveness at the price she’d paid for their speedy journey home.

He had tried many times before to contact her, but had never succeeded. This would be the last time he tried. _Voyager_ was her home, and he felt certain that if she would talk to him in the vision quest, it would be here.

Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply. _A-koo-chee-moy-a. I am far from the sacred places of my grandfathers…_

“My son, what brings you here? You are going home. You should be celebrating with your friends.”

“I am still looking for Kathryn, Father. I want to talk to her, but I can't find her. I've tried and tried since she left.”

“Think, son. Would she refuse to talk to you if she was here with me?”

“No, she wouldn’t,” Chakotay answered with all his heart. “But maybe the void has swallowed her spirit as well as her life.”

His father shook his head. “That is a foolish thought. Why don’t you trust her instead?”

“I’ve always trusted her!” Chakotay interjected.

“No. You are still thinking of her as you saw her last. You pitied her then.”

“She was lost, angry at herself, bearing the guilt of too many years and decisions. Of course, I ached for her. But I couldn’t reach her then, and I can’t now. What am I doing wrong, father?”

“Guilt is a part of her, yes, but it is not all she is, it is not all she feels. You know that to be true, but your own grief and fears blind you. Clear your mind and trust your heart instead, my son.”

And Chakotay wondered.


	6. Game Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously:  
>  _Chakotay breathed out. Even though he didn’t know the man, he already warmed to his relaxed manners. “Captain Riker, welcome to the Delta quadrant. On behalf of_ Voyager _’s crew, I thank you and your crew for undertaking this long journey. With your arrival, we already feel much closer to home.”_

B’Elanna let out a sigh of frustration. “And I’m telling you. There’s no way Janeway could have survived that long.”

She got a dark glare from Chakotay, but shrugged it off. Seven was standing close, hands behind her back, and B’Elanna didn’t mind the moral backup for once. “Seven, tell him.”

Chakotay put his hand up. “I’ve seen the data. But—”

“The figures don’t lie, Captain.”

“Think harder, then. Think…creatively.”

“Even Captain Janeway would not have been able to break the laws of physics just because you wish her to be alive,” Seven noted with her usual forthright logic.

If looks could kill, Seven would have been vaporised by the captain’s stare. B’Elanna took a step back, thinking the conversation at an end, but Chakotay wasn’t finished. “Could she have found a way to extract energy from the void? Build a Bussard collector to gather cosmic dust?”

B’Elanna threw her arms in the air. “Don’t do this to yourself, Chakotay. We went through every scenario after she left. The data did not add up then, and nothing has changed since.”

“That was two-and-a-half years ago. The void isn’t completely barren, is it?”

“My analysis of the void dust density concluded that the captain would have needed Bussard collectors five times the size of those on _Voyager_ to run the replicator for an hour a day.”

“All right, all right.” Chakotay paced the engineering room. “So, what if she improved the efficiency of the shuttle engines, instead?”

The man was as stubborn as a targ. B’Elanna crossed her arms. “Improve their efficiency? Try increasing it by a factor of ten, you mean. Not possible.”

If it wasn’t for the Starfleet uniform hanging too loose on Chakotay, it was as if he had reverted to the hard and angry man who had landed on _Voyager_ all those years ago. All the former Maquis had changed for the better on _Voyager_ , but, perhaps he had chosen to forget who he had become since _,_ battling a different set of challenges than the Cardassians.

B’Elanna decided to take the bull by the horns. The ship had been the best thing that had happened to many of them, herself included, and she wasn’t going to let Chakotay lose his mind chasing a ghost. “After Janeway died, the shuttle would have shut down all non-essentials. Then, maybe, just maybe, it would have made it through. But even that…” She stumbled, the germ of an idea bringing her previous thoughts to a screeching halt. “Even that…”

She commandeered the console Seven had been working from and started entering new data, all the while talking to herself. “The captain would have had to run the shuttle close to its minimum configuration within a few days, a few weeks at most. Turn down temperature control, shields, comms, lights.”

Seven stood beside her, scanning the new data. “The shuttle would have become uninhabitable.”

“I know,” said B’Elanna, hitting the console with her palm. “I know. But there’s no other way for the fuel reserves to last long enough.” What would she have done if thrown in the same situation? She sure would have given it her best shot. She wouldn’t have let go, that’s for sure, but there was only so much you could get out of a shuttle.

“What are you saying?” Chakotay asked, pushing himself between the two women. “What does all that mean?” The schematics of the shuttle were spread out on the console screen, but the figures were changing too fast to make sense to anybody else than an engineer.

“If Captain Janeway had shut down all systems and diverted the energy thus saved into the engines, the shuttle might have reached its destination,” explained Seven. She changed the screen to show the path of the shuttle. Instead of ending well short of the edge of the void, the dotted line now stretched into normal space.

“You mean that a coffin will emerge from the void. How’s that better?” Chakotay growled.

B’Elanna chuckled. Both Chakotay and Seven looked at her with wide eyes. “That’s it. That’s exactly how the captain could have done it!” she said. “In a matter of speaking,” she added, her hands flying over the console. “Not a coffin, but something very close. A stasis pod. That’s the only way to reduce the shuttle energy use to the level needed to make it through the void and still remain alive. That’s the only solution.”

Seven tilted her head. “Shuttles do not carry that type of complex equipment.”

B’Elanna contemplated the data. It would have been tight. Not impossibly so, of course. If the Delta quadrant had taught her anything, it was to expect the unexpected, even the impossible. But Seven was right.

“Yeah. It was just a thought.” She moved to erase the simulation.

“Kathryn could have built something like that,” Chakotay said, his hand stopping B’Elanna’s.

She pushed herself off the console, angry at herself for raising his hopes. “Janeway was an excellent scientist and a damn good engineer, but building a stasis pod from scratch is already no mean feat when you’ve got access to replicators, spare parts, an engineering team, and a medical adviser. In a shuttle? Alone? Forget it. And there’s the timeline to consider. She would have had to build it very quickly. A couple of months into her journey and all the stasis in the world would not have compensated for the energy she’d have already spent in there.”

“In addition, stasis pods need to be carefully monitored, as I know from experience,” Seven added. “Stasis degrades over the long term, leading to—”

Chakotay shook his head. “But if she did manage to build one, very early on, and if it did work, that means she’s still alive and she’ll be coming out of the void in—” he looked at the clock on the screen “—a year and a half’s time.”

“Whoa, Chakotay. That’s a lot of ifs.” And would the captain have even wanted to escape her fate? B’Elanna wasn’t so sure. Janeway’s behaviour had changed almost immediately after _Voyager_ had entered the void. She had become a recluse, only shaking out of her funk when the Malon had decided to play rough. Follow that with weeks in a tiny shuttle in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do and nobody to talk to? B’Elanna would not wish that ghastly end on her worst enemy.

She should have kept her mouth shut. Chakotay was hanging to the past, what with his ramblings about not finding Janeway in his vision quest. He had hardly mentioned her at all since she’d left. Had almost come to blows with Neelix when the poor guy had let slip one day about how he missed her. And now…now, out of the blue, he was stirring the whole thing again.

He didn’t have the monopoly on heart-ache over Kathryn Janeway’s death. The whole crew had grieved, each in their own way. But they had moved on. Because Janeway was dead. Had been for a long time.

“The captain sacrificed herself so we could escape the void, and we’ve accepted her death.” She had to tell the bare truth, as hard as it was. “Why beat yourself up now, Chakotay? The _Khonsu_ will be here tomorrow. She would have wanted us to grab the opportunity and run with it, not go on mourning her.” B’Elanna’s voice rose. “That’s why she died. To give us a chance to get home. And there you are, just—”

She turned on her heel and left the room.

* * *

Riker watched the elegant ship through the ready room windows. The _Khonsu_ was leisurely circling a large moon of an unknown planet at half-impulse, on a parallel course with another Starfleet ship which had survived despite all odds. What was he going to find on _Voyager_? A nest of leather-clad Maquis rebels? A bunch of Starfleet rejects? Those were Nechayev’s main concerns according to her last message. The Dominion War might have ended, but she couldn't let go.

He had his orders, though. Transfer a hundred and forty people onto the _Khonsu_ and head back home. As quickly and smoothly as possible. The ships in pursuit following the _Khonsu_ 's most recent encounter with the local Delta quadrant inhabitants the day before were still a long way out, but he didn't want to tempt his fate. 

He nodded at the small party waiting for him in the transporter room. Deanna had a smile on her face when they emerged on _Voyager_ , and Riker relaxed. If she had sensed anything untoward, she would have let him know.

A man he immediately recognised as being Captain Chakotay moved from behind the transporter console. “Captain Riker, welcome to _Voyager_. I hope your travel here was without major incidents.”

He had a firm grip with callous fingers. A clean-cut if out-of-date uniform which drooped from his shoulders, an intriguing tribal tattoo, but it was his eyes, dark and unsmiling, which Riker had not been expecting. What had changed in just a few days to make _Voyager_ ’s captain so distant?

“It's good to see you, Captain Chakotay.” Reserving his judgement, Riker introduced his officers. “My first officer, Commander Hartono, and Commander Deanna Troi, ship’s psychologist. Who is also my wife,” he added with pride.

“We are all grateful for your arrival. Captain, Commanders,” Chakotay said with barely any warmth. He tilted his head at a tall Vulcan man. “Commander Tuvok, _Voyager_ ’s first officer. My senior officers are waiting for us in the briefing room.”

Riker and his team followed the two _Voyager_ ’s officers out of the transporter room. He kept note of the clean and airy corridors, the crew members in pressed Starfleet uniforms passing them with large smiles on their faces. It could have been the corridors of the _Enterprise_ he was walking through. Too familiar a sight for a ship which had spent six years alone in the Delta quadrant and was now captained by a man who seemed now less than happy to welcome his rescuers.

The briefing room was much bigger than the _Khonsu_ ’s, with large windows overlooking the rugged surface of the nondescript moon both ships were orbiting. All those present stood at attention when Riker entered. He appreciated the gesture.

Chakotay showed the small delegation from the _Khonsu_ to their seats and remained standing for the introductions. “Lieutenant Commander Paris, _Voyager_ ’s chief helmsman, and Lieutenant Kim, tactical officer.” The two men smiled and dipped their heads.

“Lieutenant Torres, our chief engineer—”

“I’m eager to see your ship’s engines, Captain,” Torres blurted. “The _Khonsu_ ’s speed is unprecedented.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to do that, Lieutenant.” Riker grinned. “And you’ll probably get sick of them very quickly too. They make quite a rattle at times.”

“A rattle?” she frowned, which accentuated her Klingon features. “If I can be of help in finding out why, I’m sure I’ll—”

“B’Elanna,” Chakotay said with a trace of amusement in his quiet voice, and the woman settled back in her chair, murmuring an apology which drew smiles from around the room.

Riker would have loved to ask his wife what she thought of _Voyager_ ’s officers now that they were finally meeting them face-to-face. A half-Klingon who seemed much too young for the lofty position of chief engineer on a Starfleet starship. A pilot whom he had expected to appear cocky and slick according to his less-than-complimentary pre- _Voyager_ records, but who looked at him with quiet self-confidence instead. Owen Paris might be rightly proud of what his son had achieved since setting foot on _Voyager_. Lieutenant Kim, experienced enough despite his evident youth. A Vulcan as first officer. He wondered how T’Pwur would react when meeting him. It would most probably be a very dignified and short conversation.

Chakotay continued his introductions. “The Doctor, our chief medical officer.”

A bald and grinning man leaned forward. “I am sure your EMH and I will have plenty to talk about over the next two years. I’ve made several remarkable discoveries which will fascinate him.” Chakotay coughed, and the doctor sat back. “When it’s convenient of course,” he added.

“And we look forward to taking your advice as to any _Voyager_ crew member you think might need our help, Doctor,” Deanna said with a smile.

Riker kept a straight face when the man beamed in response to Deanna’s courteous words. It’s only in the name of saving space that Riker had accepted the installation of an EMH on the _Khonsu_ , but _Voyager_ ’s doctor was no ordinary hologram from what he’d read in the few reports which Starfleet Command had sent him. The capacity to leave sickbay might explain his expansion past his original programming.

“And Seven of Nine, our astrophysics expert,” Chakotay finished. A spectacular-looking woman with Borg-implants on her face and hands nodded briskly.

Riker had studied the unique circumstances of the young woman’s arrival on _Voyager_ , but he had not anticipated the challenging look she gave him. Of all the problematic decisions that _Voyager_ ’s former captain had made, bringing a Borg drone on board her ship had been one of the most controversial, one he had fought against when a similar situation had arisen on the _Enterprise_.

What a strange and motley bunch, he reflected while answering a few anodyne questions coming his way. Two former Maquis, a Starfleet dropout, a former Borg, a hologram, two career officers, all thrown together by happenstance and a long-gone war. Hardly the people he would have thought capable of running a Starfleet ship, let alone keeping a crew alive in dire circumstances. And yet, here they were, when everybody else had thought them dead.

And in a flash, he grasped something that he had not anticipated. This was truly one ship, one crew. Not individuals who came and went at Starfleet’s beck and call between starships and assignments. These were people whose lives over the past few years had been forged in the same crucible of great hardships and losses, transcending their past deeds and former loyalties. All working together towards a single goal set by their previous captain.

Nechayev’s concerns about the individuals in front of him were off the mark. The entire crew was a force to be reckoned with, and he wondered what their arrival would mean for an organisation still reeling from the losses to the Dominion War. _Voyager_ ’s crew might present a much more formidable challenge than the admiral had ever envisaged.

Or, maybe, that is what she was worried about., but it wasn’t, as he was now explaining, as if he had had much contact with Starfleet over the past two years.

Deanna gave him a questioning look, sensing his confusion, and he shook his head to reassure her. His thoughts about _Voyager_ ’s crew could wait. There was much to do.

“Commander Hartono will organise tours of the _Khonsu_ to help familiarise yourselves with the ship and organise where your crew will be housed. It will be cramped quarters, I’m afraid.”

Chakotay nodded. “I can tell you, Captain, that most of the crew are eager to get back home as soon as possible, cramped quarters or not.”

Riker didn’t miss the sudden intake of breath from his wife at Chakotay’s words. Something had caught her attention, but he could not ask her right now.

 _Voyager_ ’s captain remained an enigma. He had expected the former Maquis leader to be taller for a start. He didn’t know why. Perhaps because of his reputation, or was it Starfleet’s early propaganda which had painted the Maquis rebel as larger than life? Or maybe the past two years had made him appreciate how hard it was to survive in this quadrant, as if size was everything. Picard barely reached his nose, and yet his authority was never questioned.

Chakotay continued. “If you don’t have an objection, I propose that Commander Tuvok and Lieutenant Kim accompany your first officer back to the _Khonsu_ for a first assessment, while the crew start their final preparations here. We could then reconvene in the morning for a full debriefing. I'd also like to invite your crew for a celebration tomorrow evening to mark your arrival.”

“Thank you for the kind invitation. It will be a pleasure, Captain,” Riker said.

All in all, their meeting had gone well, he thought when he returned to the _Khonsu_. Except for a hard-faced captain. The man no longer seemed glad about the prospect of getting home, a far cry from when they had first talked. What had happened in between times to prompt such a change in attitude?

* * *

Deanna put the PADD down, still reeling from what she’d learnt of the trials and tribulations _Voyager_ had gone through. It was so different from Starfleet’s terse and dry summaries she’d read on their way to the rendezvous point. Here were the ship’s raw logs, the voices of its two captains telling their story as they encountered all kinds of obstacles on their long journey home.

Every species a likely enemy. Every spatial anomaly a potential disaster. Every day, the threats of endless voids, mind-violations, senseless attacks. Threading their way month after month through foes of so many different kinds, in search of dilithium, food, resources, shortcuts. Each light-year painfully gained, and still tens of thousands stretched in front of them like a never-ending road.

But _Voyager_ had survived, with more exotic technology than what Starfleet would know what to do with, and enough wondrous discoveries to warrant the creation of an entire new department at the Academy, by her reckoning. These were achievements in themselves, worthy of recognition for years to come.

However, it was the crew’s mindset she was most interested in. She wondered at the level of utter pig-headedness needed to keep focused for decades on end on that one goal of getting home. About their experiences and hurt. Because the hurt would be there, deep waters ready to swallow whoever ignored their strong currents and submerged rips. They were truly an alien crew, it seemed to her, and the most alien of all were their captains—the sullen man hurting more than most, and the woman, now dead, who had started the ship on its unique journey.

Sorrow for what those two people had endured threatened to overcome her, her sensitivity to their ordeals heightened by Chakotay’s deep melancholy.

“Deanna? What’s wrong?”

Strong arms embraced her from behind and she welcomed Will’s warmth and strength. Lost in her thoughts, she had not heard nor sensed him coming back to their small quarters on the _Khonsu_. He’d known she was upset, their psychic bond strong enough to alert him to her moods.

She put her hands on his, letting his comforting and cheerful presence bring her back to the present. “I was reviewing Captain Janeway’s logs. I still can’t get my mind around the fact that she was looking at a journey of seventy-five years. Decades spent in unknown space, the crew lost to their families and friends, and in a ship half the size of the _Enterprise_. You can feel how soul crushing it was for her, although she didn’t let much seep through her writing.”

Will put his chin on her shoulder. Deanna picked up a grin like the Cheshire cat from his mind, and turned to face him. “You knew her, didn’t you? Before _Voyager_?”

He smiled, his eyes sparkling. “What about I tell you all about the busy social life of a young Academy cadet while we eat?”

**⁂**

Will cleared the table and put the plates into the recycler. “And that’s how I met the feisty red-haired cadet, not knowing at the time she was on her way to much greater things.”

Glad that Will had pushed away her feelings of gloom, Deanna moved to the couch, twirling her glass. “And she turned you down.”

“That she did. Too busy working on her doctorate, she told me.”

“Ouch! Cadet William Riker not getting the girl. That must have been a blow.”

“I was saving myself for future conquests,” he said with mocked seriousness as he sat near her.

“You didn’t even know I existed at the time!”

He buried his face into her bare neck. “I sensed you from far away,” he muttered againt the soft and sensitive skin behind her ear.

Deanna playfully disentangled herself from Will’s roaming hands. “And what did you think of Janeway then?”

“Apart from being bright, good-looking and sporting very nicely shaped legs?” He sat back with a laugh, looking at Deanna with hooded eyes.

She smacked him on the thigh. “Yes, apart from that, silly man!”

He gathered her in his arms, his voice wistful. “I never saw her again. I heard that Admiral Paris had taken her under his wing. He was a captain then, but his reputation was already uncompromising to say the least. There was mention of a mission that went wrong when the two of them disappeared during a routine science survey near the DMZ. Rumours were that they’d been taken prisoners by the Cardassians, but whatever happened got classified faster than a ship getting to warp speed. Still is, probably.”

The Cardassians were not renowned for adhering to Federation principles on the treatment of prisoners. Starting a Starfleet career with an experience that traumatic could make some people cling desperately to a desk job for the rest of their lives, and harden others to the point of recklessness. And from what Deanna knew of Janeway’s life, one could never have accused the captain of embracing a sedentary lifestyle.

“There’s one thing though that will tell you all you need to know about Kathryn Janeway before she headed _Voyager_ ’s ill-fated mission,” Will added. “Something Picard revealed one day when I was discussing with him whether to take the captaincies Starfleet kept throwing at me.”

Deanna snuggled against him, knowing of his pride at having served on the _Enterprise_ under Picard.

“He told me that Janeway had been his original choice as first officer for the _Enterprise-D_. He said that almost as an aside, while sipping on his Earl Grey. It took me by surprise, I must admit. I always thought I had been the only candidate he’d ever considered.” Deanna did not need her empathy skills to hear the slight disappointment in her husband’s voice. She also didn’t have the heart to tell him that Picard had mentioned to her about asking Janeway first. Or her own concern when he had said his next choice had been one William Riker. But working on the _Enterprise_ , facing the same dangers together, had changed her mind about the young career-minded man she had once sought to avoid.

“Anyway, Janeway had already accepted another position and declined the post. With hindsight, Picard was right, though. She would have made a very fine first officer, and maybe I would have ended up on _Voyager_ ’s bridge in her place.”

Deanna didn’t want to think about that scenario for too long—the two of them separated by thousands of light-years and never re-united. It was not a life she wanted to contemplate. “And what about Chakotay? What do you think of him? Did you meet him before?” she asked to shake the image away.

“He graduated the year after I entered the Academy, and we never crossed paths until now as far as I’m aware. When he defected to the Maquis, there weren’t too many bad words against him, strangely enough. He seems to have been well liked and respected. Why?”

They had already discussed their first impressions of the crew after returning to the _Khonsu_ , coming to no firm conclusions as to Chakotay’s distant demeanour. But late in the evening the _Khonsu_ ’s captain and counsellor were both off duty, and Deanna thought it was time to give Will a little of his own medicine back.

“Well, for one, he is very distinguished with his dark hair with a bit of grey showing through. Dimples. Large hands. A fascinating tattoo,” she purred with all the sophistication she could muster without laughing. “And you know I’ve always been attracted to dark-haired men.”

Will planted a kiss on her neck before moving his lips further down. “But I bet I’m the only one with dazzling blue eyes.”

She mumbled a few words of agreement as her body responded to Will’s unwavering attention, and they fell backwards on the couch.

During the busy moments which followed, they forgot all about _Voyager_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Captain Picard talking to Deanna Troi about wanting then-Lieutenant Kathryn Janeway as his first officer on the Enterprise-D, but settling for William Riker is from _The Buried Age_ , a TNG novel by Christopher L. Bennett (2007).


	7. Cards on the Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously:  
>  _A man he immediately recognised as being Captain Chakotay moved from behind the transporter console. “Captain Riker, welcome to_ Voyager. _I hope your travel here was without major incidents.”_

“And I’m telling you, she is alive.” Chakotay leaned over the desk, his knuckles white against the darker tabletop.

Riker pushed the PADD back across the table. He was no Betazoid, but it wasn’t difficult to sense the anger and frustration pouring out of the man. “With all due respect, what you've told me and what this analysis shows is that it would be a miracle if Captain Janeway had survived crossing that void. Even Lieutenant Torres doesn't think it’s possible to have built a stasis pod under those conditions.”

“Torres’ exact words were ‘it would have been extremely difficult to do given the circumstances’,” Chakotay said. “Captain Janeway has proven to be extremely resourceful against the odds more times than I care to remember.”

“I have no doubt about her ingenuity,” Riker said in a calming tone. “But from what Counsellor Troi gathered from the captain’s personal logs, Janeway became deeply depressed once _Voyager_ reached the void. Finding herself alone, by her own doing, would not have helped her mental state. What makes you think that she might have wanted to prolong what was, by everyone’s reckoning, certain death?”

“You don't know her,” Chakotay said. “If there had been just a chance she might survive, she would have taken it with both hands once she knew _Voyager_ was safely on the other side of the void. She was reckless in her efforts to protect her crew, but never suicidal.”

Riker had no opinion about that. The single-minded cadet he had met two decades before might have pulled this mad plan. But she was long gone. “A few more days and we will be leaving this place to get back home. There’s too much at stake to pursue this notion of yours.” The man was hurting, but that didn’t make his fantasy any easier to acknowledge.

Chakotay took a step back, his shoulders sagging. “Captain Janeway knows she can’t hope to catch up with _Voyager_. I can hear you say that being alone would have been enough to convince her to…let go, but I refuse to agree with that. She is a fighter. A fine scientist, too. There is a way out and she’s taken it.”

“Let’s make this clear,” Riker said, calmly. “You believe Captain Janeway is alive based on a vision quest in which she didn’t appear; the extremely remote possibility she would have thought about, let alone built, a stasis pod by herself; and flying a Class II shuttle for four years when its normal range is closer to a few months at most.” He didn’t try to hide his scepticism, in marked contrast to Chakotay’s unassailable confidence.

“Yes,” Chakotay said. “That’s exactly what I am saying. I know it is far-fetched, I know the odds are slim, but if there was a single chance a Starfleet crew member once thought dead could be alive, wouldn’t you try to find them? She deserves our help. God knows, if it hadn’t been for her, _Voyager_ would have been the one left drifting in that void.”

Not wanting to antagonise Chakotay, Riker pushed his chair back to leave him some space. This conversation wasn’t going anywhere, and he had to get it back on track. He hadn’t yet told _Voyager_ ’s captain about Starfleet’s plan to scuttle his ship and wondered how he would react to the news. “I don’t need to remind you that you are wearing those four pips now. You can’t just abandon your crew and go on a wild goose chase, if that is what you intend to do. From what I know of her, Captain Janeway would tell you the very same thing. If she was alive.” He made sure the man heard his emphasis on ‘if’. As much as he sympathised with Chakotay’s grief, no way was he going to get sucked in by such an improbable theory.

“She also told me and every single member of this crew that she would never, ever, leave somebody behind. I’m not ready to throw away that most basic of Starfleet principles if the possibility exists she might be found. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if we did. With the knowledge,”—Chakotay pointed at the vast space beyond the _Khonsu_ ’s hull—"that she will soon be somewhere out there, in a shuttle, battling to get home, while knowing full well she’ll never get there. She’s always been there for us, and for once—”

He turned away, his jaw muscles straining. Riker flinched under the anguish so evidently on display. Chakotay’s earlier words came back to him. “ _Most of the crew are eager to go back home_ ”. Deanna hadn’t been able to say more than “I sensed a reluctance in Chakotay’s mind”, when he had questioned her about it. It was plainly apparent now that the man had been grieving Janeway’s fate for a long time.

It was also clear that Janeway had been much more than a former captain to Chakotay. How much more? Nothing in Janeway’s logs indicated more than a deep affection for the man. Although, if one was to read between the lines, it wasn’t too difficult to wonder if that affection had not become something else altogether. Something much deeper-seated, where distance and time meant nothing. Something that could make people believe in miracles at the slightest sign of hope.

But he had to tell Chakotay the hard truth, if only for the sake of their individual crews. “Whether Captain Janeway is alive or not is a moot point. Her shuttle is still crossing the void as we speak. According to your own calculations, by the time it reaches normal space, we’ll almost be back in the Alpha quadrant. There’s nothing we can do for her. Once home, you could try and petition Starfleet to send another rescue ship.”

A rather unlikely proposition, and they both knew it.

Not showing any hint of the anger which had overtaken him just a few moments earlier, Chakotay sat and looked back at Riker from across the table. His was the face of a grief-stricken man, not that of a madman.

Riker waited for him to say something. Then he realised what Chakotay was after. “Oh, no,” he said, his hands raised to fend the thought off. “No way am I risking the _Khonsu_ on such a mission. For one, this ship needs specially manufactured dilithium crystals, and we don’t have the reserves to lengthen our journey by another four years. Second, the _Khonsu_ ’s mission is to get _Voyager_ ’s crew back to the Alpha quadrant, and that is what I intend to do.”

Chakotay closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, then gave him a small smile when he re-opened them. “You misunderstand me. You are right that Captain Janeway would not want her crew’s first genuine hope of getting home to be compromised in any way. And I wouldn’t be asking anyone to make such a sacrifice. What I am proposing is…different.”

Riker braced himself. He knew enough of Chakotay, his strength of character, his loyalty to his crew and former captain, his passion for rightful but lost causes, to take his next words very seriously.

“My responsibilities as _Voyager_ ’s captain are coming to an end. The crew will soon start their journey home and if I were to go with them, I’d just be a passenger, spending the next two years thinking about my future. But I won’t have a future if I forget my responsibilities to my captain. Once I see my crew safely under your command, I’ll take the _Delta Flyer_. It’s faster than the shuttle she’s in, and we’ve encountered few hostile species since we left the void, so I can make good speed. When I get there, it shouldn’t take me long for me to find her shuttle. And then, we’ll continue home in the flyer.”

A shiver ran down Riker’s spine. The journey Chakotay was painting in the broadest of brushes was hopeless, an unremitting quest dreamed up by a desperate man who had made his mind up and wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“It seems to me that you have thought about this long and hard. I can only inform Starfleet of your theory about Captain Janeway’s whereabouts, and of your proposal.”

“I look forward to hearing what Starfleet has to say.” Chakotay stood, ready to leave.

No need for telepathy to know that the man didn't give a damn about what Starfleet would decide. If he wanted to take the flyer, there was little Riker could do short of putting him in the brig now. And he wasn’t ready to do that without an express order. He did feel Chakotay’s hurt. If Troi had gone missing on an away mission, he would have looked for her until hell froze over. But that was not the here and now. He had his orders and his responsibilities.

“There’s something else,” he said reluctantly.

Chakotay frowned. “Yes?”

“You must have realised that the _Khonsu_ can’t tow _Voyager_ back to the Federation.”

A gesture of dismissal. “I’ve asked Lieutenant Kim to scan the moon we are orbiting. It has a stable geomorphology, and he’s found several large caverns where we can shelter the ship until such time as Starfleet wants it back.”

Riker shook his head. “My orders are to scuttle the ship. Starfleet does not want to run the risk of its technology falling into—”

Chakotay clasped the back of his chair with both hands. “Destroy _Voyager_?”

“From one captain to another, I can assure you this is one order I take absolutely no pleasure in complying with,” Riker said, conveying as much empathy as he could in his voice. “However, Starfleet’s command stands. I will need access to _Voyager_ ’s self-destruct codes once you board the _Khonsu_.”

The man breathed in slowly then his eyes locked with Riker’s. “That won’t be necessary. I am _Voyager_ ’s captain. I’ll do it.”

The two men faced each other across the ready room table which seemed to represent what separated them as much as what linked them as captains. “I wouldn’t expect less of you. Nevertheless, protocols dictate that I get a copy of those codes.”

Lifting his chin, Chakotay gave him a hard look. “I’ll have Tuvok send them to you.”

“Thank you.” Riker could hardly imagine what was crossing Chakotay’s mind now. Losing one’s ship in battle was hard enough. Being the one to destroy it for no obvious tactical reason would be heart wrenching.

“Under the circumstances, if you prefer to cancel the celebration tonight, I’ll understand,” Riker offered.

Tension ebbing from his shoulders, Chakotay tipped his head. “Don’t think my crew and I aren’t grateful for your sacrifice and that of your crew, Captain, in coming to rescue us from a very long and dangerous journey. I’ll tell them tomorrow what will happen to _Voyager_ , but tonight, we will celebrate those who have come to get my crew home. And besides,” he added with a slight smirk which didn’t quite reach his eyes, “our resident ambassador is very keen to meet you all.”

Riker grinned, glad to end the meeting on a brighter note. “Thank you, it will be a pleasure to attend.”

After Chakotay left the _Khonsu_ ’s briefing room, Riker sank back in his seat, pensive, before calling the ship’s counsellor.

**⁂**

~Captain, I am very sorry. I know it’s late.~

His head reeling from the over-the-top party organised by a very enthusiastic _Voyager_ crew member, Will opened one eye, then shut it. Or maybe it had been the two bottles of Château Picard he had brought with him, a gift from his former captain when he had accepted the captaincy of the _Khonsu_. Full-bodied French red wine would be the death of him.

“What is it?” he mumbled into his combadge. He glanced at the clock. Oh-three-hundred. This’d better be important.

~It’s the pursuing ships, sir.~

“Spit it out, Ensign.” His stomach rumbled. Bad choice of words, that.

~According to my orders, you wanted to be alerted when they were getting closer. Long-range sensors indicate that they are now only two days away from us, sir, if they maintain their current speed.~

Will pinched the bridge of his nose. He had never woken up Picard in the middle of the night because of a couple of enemy ships days away from their position. Still, he’d been first officer then, not an ensign nervous now that the _Khonsu_ was at a standstill.

“Thank you, Ensign.”

“There’s also a recorded message from Starfleet. For your eyes only.”

Ah. At last. “Patch the sensor data and the message through to my personal console. Riker out.”

He had no intention of walking through the ship with a headache the size of the quadrant. Not that he could fault the two crews for going a bit wild, but he should have known better. It’s not like he was getting any younger.

“What is it?” Deanna asked in a voice full of sleep.

“Seems the ships we encountered on our way here are getting closer. And we’ve got a response from Starfleet about Chakotay’s proposal. I’ll have a look and come back to bed.” He sat up and his stomach rose of its own volition. “What did that man—what’s his name? Felix or something—put in that punch bowl? Warp core liquid plasma?”

Deanna smiled, gave him a peck on the cheek and settled her head back on the pillow. “His name is Neelix, and I warned you to go easy on that punch. Serves you right. Ask the EMH for a hypospray.”

Will moaned loudly as he got up, but Deanna had already turned away, ignoring his exaggerated whines. He smiled and pulled the blanket over her shoulders. He didn’t really regret letting his hair down. Both crews needed the break, and it was good for _Voyager_ ’s people to get to know the man behind the captain before boarding his ship. He might even introduce some of _Voyager_ ’s senior officers to a poker game or two. T’Pwur had no interest, and Hartono couldn’t keep a straight face if his life depended on it.

He tiptoed to the computer terminal on the desk nearby, turning the screen towards him so the glare wouldn’t wake his wife. Their quarters were a third smaller than what they’d been used to on the _Enterprise_. A small price to pay to command the fastest ship in the Federation though, and as long as Deanna was with him, he could bear some minor hardship.

~ _Starfleet Command_ _to Captain Riker_.~

The Starfleet logo faded, replaced by Admiral Nechayev’s face. Her pursed lips and hard glare made it clear the woman was most displeased.

~ _Captain Riker, I’ll make this brief. Under no circumstances will you allow Chakotay to go on that ridiculous quest to supposedly rescue Captain Janeway. God knows what he’s got in mind to do once left to his own devices. Another captain going rogue is just one more example of what can go wrong without proper Starfleet supervision. What has been happening on that ship has been allowed to go on for far too long.~_

Mindful of his headache, Riker refrained from rolling his eyes. What did Nechayev think Chakotay would do with a single flyer?

_~Starfleet Command is rightly concerned about the impact this sad state of affairs has had on the crew. Once you reach the Alpha quadrant,_ Voyager _’s crew members will be assessed on a case by case basis. The Maquis should expect to come up against the full force of Federation law, and_ _the enlisted personnel’s actions will be adjudicated against Starfleet General Orders and Regulations. The people who came on board_ Voyager _at a later date will be dealt with according to Federation laws on non-citizens.~_

Damn. This rescue mission was not getting any better.

_~In that light, once_ Voyager _’s crew is on board the_ Khonsu _, you’ll take all precautions to ensure that they do not have access to any operational areas, so as to not prejudice the cases the Federation or Starfleet might want to bring against them. Likewise, you will restrict their computer access and communications to family matters exclusively._

_I understand such a directive might be logistically difficult to implement. However, Starfleet expects you to uphold your orders. I hope I make myself clear, Captain._

_Nechayev out_.~

The screen went blank, and Will sat back, his mind in turmoil. He couldn’t treat one section of his crew differently from everybody else. They would all be his crew once they were on the _Khonsu_. Nothing so far had hinted that _Voyager_ ’s crew were unreliable or disloyal to Starfleet.

Deanna moved to stand near him, his emotions having awakened her again. He turned the screen towards her and replayed Nechayev’s message without saying a word. She listened attentively, then switched off the computer screen. “Nechayev was heavily involved in the negotiation of the Federation-Cardassian Treaty of 2370. She’s always sought to preserve peace at all costs, and has never hidden her enmity against what the Maquis were doing to Cardassian forces, even if once she might have sympathized with their cause.”

“But Cardassia is now in ruin. What would be the benefit for the Federation to still pursue those people? And what about the Starfleet crew members on _Voyager_? It’s hardly fair to treat them like that. There’ll be one rule for them and another for the _Khonsu_ ’s crew.”

Will stared at the blank screen. He’d thought his main troubles as first-time captain would be aggressive aliens, dangerous spatial anomalies and a new, yet unproven warp technology. Little had he realised when setting foot on the _Khonsu_ that his problems would come from much closer to home. “I would give a lot to be able to talk to Picard right now, or Janeway, for that matter. What would they do in the same circumstances?”

Sitting beside him, Deanna laid her head against his shoulder. “What do you think they would say?” she asked.

“Picard would argue that such a decision goes against the very spirit of what Starfleet and the Federation are about. And as for Janeway…” He chuckled. “She would most probably come out all guns blazing.”

Deanna smiled. “I believe you are right on both counts. Picard would also seek to use his influence to try to change the Admiralty's mind, but that won’t help you right now. As to Kathryn Janeway, she disobeyed her original mission directive to capture the Maquis not because she thought their cause trumped Starfleet orders, but because the survival of her crew was paramount.” She squeezed his hand. “But you are not either of them. You have to make your own decisions. Or are you so keen on your reputation as a Starfleet captain that you would follow orders your eyes closed?” she asked.

He knew her aim was not to bait him but to help him find a just solution to the impossible situation Nechayev had dropped him in. “I’m sure I could find a way around those orders if I wanted to, but I’ve got to think of my own crew. I can’t tell them to ignore a direct order and risk their careers because I’ve got a different opinion from Starfleet Command.”

“Would you consider not telling them?”

She was putting all the options on offer, even ones he would never contemplate taking. “I can’t lie to my crew, by omission or otherwise. That is no way to captain a ship. And I can’t lie to _Voyager_ ’s crew either. They need to know what to expect, even if they might want to make my life difficult as a result.”

“Then, trust them. You’ve picked your crew well. They will listen to what you have to say, Captain William T. Riker, and they will follow you when you make your decision because you’ve earned their respect. As to _Voyager_ ’s crew, they will make their own choices, but remember who chose them and what they have endured.”

Will breathed deeply before facing his wife. A smile came to his face, making him look so much younger, she thought with longing. He brushed a long lock of dark hair off the side of her face. “Deanna, have I ever told you how lucky I am to have you in my life?”

“Many times, Izmadi.” She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “But I don't mind hearing it again.”

Her last thought before they went back to bed was for Chakotay. If his love for Janeway, because that would be the only reason for him to abandon his ship and crew, was as strong as her love for Will, then nothing would stand in his path. Not Starfleet, not the vast distances, not a hostile quadrant, not any doubts as to whether he would succeed. He would scour the ends of the universe to be with Kathryn Janeway again.

She snuggled against the warm body of her husband, grateful for his solid presence at her side.


	8. A New Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously:  
>  _~Captain Riker, I’ll make this brief. Under no circumstances will you allow Chakotay to go on that ridiculous quest to supposedly rescue Captain Janeway. God knows what he’s got in mind to do once left to his own devices.~_

Deanna faltered the closer they drew to _Voyager_ 's briefing room. Waves of anger and dismay clawed at her, and the few words she heard through the door when the crewman asked them to wait told her all she needed to know. Chakotay had raised the subject of _Voyager_ ’s fate with his officers.

“Do you think it’s wise to go in?” Hartono asked with concern in his voice.

“They deserve the truth,” Will said. On a nod from the crewman, he entered the room without any hesitation in his stride. Deanna followed him, bracing herself.

**⁂**

Nechayev’s message ended, and Chakotay forced his nails out of his palms. Not since fighting the Cardassians had he hated somebody like he hated Nechayev right then.

“How can she do that?” hurtled Tom. “How can she do that to any of us? Is it a personal vendetta of hers?”

“That explains why we weren’t told what would happen to us once we get back,” Kim said in a defeated tone. “They don’t trust us.”

“First, Starfleet wants to destroy the ship, and now they want to destroy us,” B’Elanna spat out. “Doesn’t it sound familiar to you?” she asked to no one in particular.

Riker looked genuinely sorry to be the bearer of even more bad news than scuttling the ship, but that hardly softened the blow. Chakotay felt a pang of guilt as Troi’s face crumpled, the angry mood swamping the briefing room and battering her. She was an empath and there they were, broadcasting intense emotions with no thoughts about her well-being. He gave her a small smile and quietened his own temper.

He’d always expected some sort of judgement passed on the former Maquis crew members once they’d reached home. That their cause was just didn’t make it lawful, and he’d thought he understood the risks in accepting Janeway’s offer to return to the Alpha quadrant. But that had been when the whole journey would have taken decades. When nobody would care about a war fought a long time ago by the time they’d touched the sky of their home planets. He, and all the former Maquis on _Voyager_ , had been lulled into believing that time was on their side.

And it wasn’t just the Maquis, Chakotay reflected, not listening to the heated discussion flying around him. Kathryn had led her ship and crew in the best of Starfleet traditions, and that very same organisation was now targeting her entire crew. She would have fought for them, he was sure of it, but she wasn’t there now. She wouldn’t be coming home with them. And maybe that was for the best, because God knew what Starfleet, or at least some admirals, would have had in store for her.

The path in front of him was once again clear. Whatever his personal dreams and hopes, whatever he had told Riker, his responsibilities would not end until each and every member of his crew got justice. The _Khonsu_ ’s captain had been right. He just couldn’t abandon them now. Riker had not seen fit to show Nechayev’s answer to his proposal to return to the void and look for Kathryn, but it wasn’t difficult to guess that the admiral’s response had been.

Having made his mind up, his attention moved back to Hartono who was trying to defend the indefensible. “You won’t be under arrest while on the _Khonsu_. You just won’t have access to some areas of the ship,” Riker’s first officer said.

“To all intents and purposes, that’s exactly what that message says,” Tom said. “No offense, Commander, but your ship isn’t exactly big. There’s no holodeck, no recreational areas to speak of. We are looking at a hundred and forty people sharing the equivalent of this briefing room with the _Khonsu_ ’s crew, or staying in their quarters, four bunks per room. For two years! And then, bam, once home, we get thrown to the wolves.”

B’Elanna slammed her fist on the table. “What we need to do is raise hell until Nechayev rescinds that order, so we don’t spend two years like sardines, and then she’ll see what she’s got on her hands when we get home.”

“We won’t fight Nechayev,” Chakotay said before anybody had the time to react.

He stood, leaning over the table, his voice carrying as much authority as he could muster. “We’ve been gone for too long for Starfleet not to feel threatened by what we might have become in their eyes. And that is exactly why we won’t fight that order. It is the only way we can prove to Starfleet Command that we are a Starfleet crew. Competent, trustworthy and following orders. If we fight this, we play into the hands of those back home who are suspicious of us and dismissive of our achievements. It will make the decision of putting half of this crew in prison and ending the career of the others a fait accompli the moment we set foot on Earth.”

“But it’s hardly fair to make us all pay for that now. You can’t deny that,” B’Elanna said. “And what about _Voyager_? Aren't you going to fight for the ship?” she asked, still outraged. “It’s been our home for six years. It’s got more novel technology than all the Starfleet ships put together, and look at what they want to do to it!”

Fairness to his people had been a dream of his. A place to live which wasn’t a battleground for forces too large and powerful to stop. And for his crew, a time to rest after so many years travelling through dangerous and alien space. But it wasn’t meant to be, it seemed.

_Voyager_ ’s officers started to remonstrate again, but Chakotay hushed them down with a stare. “The fate of this crew is more important than that of the ship. I don’t care if our treatment is fair or not. We won’t break our pledge to Captain Janeway to be one Starfleet crew. We owe it to her and to ourselves to keep our heads high and follow Admiral Nechayev’s orders. Is that clear?”

He looked at each of his officers in turn. Their backs straightened under his gaze, and one by one they nodded their assent. They were _Voyager_ ’s officers. They would survive this.

He sat back down, feeling drained. “Once back on Earth, I’ll make a plea bargain. I’ll plead guilty to whatever the Federation wants to pile on me, if they leave the Maquis alone and Starfleet keeps the rest of the crew within its ranks. I’ll even go public if it helps.”

“It is a noble thought, but I doubt your sacrifice would appease those in Starfleet who still hold a grudge against the Maquis after all these years,” Troi said.

“Together we might be able to stand up to Nechayev and whoever else,” B’Elanna exclaimed. “But you won’t stand a chance of a fair trial all by yourself. You’ll be ripped to pieces.”

“And we won’t be there to support you. As soon as we get home, everybody will be busy fighting for their own future,” Harry said. He’d been one of the more enthusiastic crew members at the prospect of going back much earlier than anticipated, and it was heartbreaking to see his despondency.

“On the other hand—” Tom’s eyes gleamed “—going public could be exactly what we should do.”

“How so?” Tuvok asked, one eyebrow raised. Chakotay had noted his jaw tense when Nechayev’s message had played on the wall screen.

“Well, we’ve all agreed that we have to follow the rules, despite how biased they are. But what about we get some backup? From what my father told me, the news that we were still alive was a great boost to the spirits of all back home during the Dominion War. Now, with the reconstruction under way and Nechayev putting a dampener on news from _Voyager_ , we haven’t had that high a profile, but it wouldn’t take too much to make ourselves newsworthy again.”

“Nechayev has expressly forbidden us to contact anybody else than family,” B’Elanna noted.

“That doesn’t mean our families can’t talk to anybody else, within and outside of Starfleet,” Tom noted, “and some of us have family members highly placed.”

“Communications with the Alpha quadrant are limited to when the _Khonsu_ reduces speed. Which won’t happen often,” Riker noted. “But I’m sure I can speak on Captain Picard’s behalf and say that he will be appalled at learning what might be in store for you once home.”

“As would my former captain,” added Tuvok. “‘Let the regulations be damned’ he told me when I was but an ensign. Admiral Sulu might have since retired, but he will not sit idle when my wife lets him know what might befall this crew.”

Everybody looked at him in surprise. They did tend to forget he was much older than anybody on board and had served under many COs, some of them legendary.

“Every little bit helps, Tuvok?” Harry commented.

The man tilted his head. “Precisely.”

“I concur with the sentiment,” Seven said with aplomb, bringing a smile to Chakotay’s lips. He knew of her apprehension at returning to a home she didn’t remember and had little attachment to.

“I can’t prevent you from contacting whoever you might want to talk to while you are still on _Voyager_ ,” Riker said with a grin, “but I suggest you do it fast and make your words count.” He turned towards Chakotay, looking at him intently. “All you wanted to do yesterday was to take the Delta Flyer to go back to the void to find Captain Janeway. What made you change your mind?”

Tuvok’s eyebrow rose again, but B’Elanna was faster, already throwing her arms in the air. “What? You told him, but not us? What’s going on, Chakotay?”

“We can’t lose you the same way we lost Captain Janeway,” Kim pleaded.

“The odds of finding the captain by yourself are not in your favour,” Seven added.

Tom shook his head. “And if you do find her, then what? As much as I am proud of the Delta Flyer, you couldn’t hope to survive a decades-long journey back home in it.”

Chakotay crossed his arms against his chest and leaned back in his chair, glaring at Riker who remained unperturbed. The man had no right to divulge what had been a private conversation between two captains. As _Voyager_ ’s officers continued to argue loudly around him, he felt bad for not telling them of his far-fetched idea, but given the circumstances, no harm had been done. And although they didn’t seem as surprised about his plan as he’d expected, his path now led him inexorably back to Earth.

Drawing the discussion to an end, he stood and the room fell into silence, his officers’ faces drawn. “Captain Riker, I appreciate you letting us see that part of Nechayev’s message. I will share the fate of my crew and ensure that they understand it is to their benefit that they accept your orders for the duration of the journey home.”

Tom gave B’Elanna a subtle tilt of the head, but before Chakotay could ask what it was about, Riker rose from his chair, straightening his uniform top. “Captain, I didn’t expect any less from you and your crew. You can be assured that I will do all I can to—”

~ _Captain_.~

“What?” Riker and Chakotay brusquely responded to the hail at the same time, then Riker lifted his hand in apology.

~ _The ships which had been following the Khonsu have increased speed and are now converging on our position, sir_ ,~ Ayala said over the comms.

“Estimated time of arrival?” Chakotay asked.

~ _Six hours at their present speed._ ~

“Keep an eye on them.~

~ _Aye, sir. Ayala out._ ~

Hartono shifted in his seat. “You are not going to red alert, Captain Chakotay?”

“If I ordered a red alert whenever an alien ship was six hours away, Commander, my crew would have infra-red vision by now,” Chakotay answered. What the man didn’t know was that Chakotay trusted his bridge officers to do all the preparation that needed to be done. Ready phasers, check the shields and wait for orders.

Ayala’s voice interrupted again. ~ _Sir. Two more ships have appeared on long-range sensors. The lead ships have accelerated to warp nine_.~

“Go to yellow alert. Tom, I want you at the helm. If we break orbit, keep _Voyager_ between the _Khonsu_ and the approaching ships at all times.”

Tom jumped from his chair. “Yes, sir.”

“I suggest we start _Voyager_ ’s evacuation at once,” Chakotay said to the remainder of the bridge officers, focusing on the job at hand.

“Agreed,” Riker said. “Hartono, return to the _Khonsu_. Put the ship on yellow alert and prepare to welcome _Voyager_ ’s crew. Send a message to Starfleet to let them know we’ll be off communications until further notice. We’ll try to contact them as soon as the threat has been mitigated.”

“Aye, sir,” Hartono said briskly, before leaving.

“Tuvok, Kim, accompany Commander Hartono. I want this evacuation to run like clockwork,” Chakotay added.

“I’ll be on the bridge,” B’Elanna said. She followed Kim and Tuvok out of the room with a spring in her step.

Chakotay turned back to Riker and Troi who were now both standing. “I thank you for your words of support. I will formally let my crew know of Nechayev’s order before moving to your ship and stepping down as their captain.” Chakotay extended his hand. He had no gripe with Riker. The man had proven himself in his eyes by letting them know of those orders early. “You will not be disappointed. There is no finer crew in the whole of Starfleet.”

“You and your crew have only friends on the _Khonsu_ , Captain. We will do all there is in our power to make your journey as comfortable as possible,” Riker said, his handshake firm. “And once back to Earth, I will back your cause and will speak on your behalf, if needed.”

~ _Captain to the bridge_.~

“Report,” Chakotay responded as he stepped out of the briefing room, Riker and Troi in tow.

“The enemy ships have increased speed again,” Ayala said from his console. “Time to intercept three hours.”

“Maintain yellow alert. Tom, keep the _Khonsu_ behind us and move _Voyager_ to intercept those ships. Ayala, open ship-wide comms.”

“Ship-wide comms open, sir.”

“To all crew, this is the captain speaking. All non-essential personnel, proceed immediately to Transporter Room One and Two and await to evacuate _Voyager_. Chakotay out.”

Torres turned around and crossed her arms over her chest. “We are coming with you.”

Tom chimed in before Chakotay had the time to query what she was talking about. “Since you told us Captain Janeway might still be alive, we knew you might try to return to the void. So, we had a little discussion a few days back.”

“A discussion about what?” Chakotay asked, his heart sinking. He had made his decision. As much as it hurt, he just couldn’t make any other choice than to stay with his crew.

“About how you’d do it,” Ayala said, lifting his eyes from his console.

Chakotay put his hand to his forehead. Of all the things he had to plan right now, dealing with this half-baked insubordination wasn’t what he had in mind. And what a great example of Starfleet discipline this was showing Riker and Troi, after everything he’d said about his crew’s professionalism. “It doesn’t matter any longer,” he said through clenched teeth,” because I’m not going anywhere near that flyer as I made abundantly clear. We’ve got enemy ships coming, an evacuation to complete and _Voyager_ to scuttle. This is not the time.”

“And when was it going to be a good time? When you were already in the Delta Flyer? Harry’s right. If it hadn’t been for Nechayev causing us problems, you would have disappeared the same way Captain Janeway did, for the good it did her and us,” B’Elanna said. “And you know what hurt the most? That neither of you asked any of us for help.”

“We don’t want to force your hand or anything, but now there’s a chance to get Janeway back, you should take it,” Ayala said.

What were they taking about?

B’Elanna walked to Chakotay and put her hand on his arm, her voice earnest. “Take _Voyager_ and take us with you. Not the whole crew, of course. Most have families in the Alpha quadrant and want to return, but you’d be surprised how many don’t mind staying in this quadrant for a bit longer if it means we’ve got a chance to get Captain Janeway back.”

“I’m going back, Chakotay,” Ayala said. “My family needs me. But I leave you in good hands. Tuvok and Harry will stay.”

“As is half of the engineering team. I had to order Joe to go, but quite a few people from airponics, security and operations are staying. Seven and Neelix as well.”

“Seems they aren’t looking forward to a Starfleet welcome. Can’t blame them really,” Tom said with a boyish smile.

B’Elanna took a couple of steps back, and Chakotay drew to his full height. “I cannot ask any of you to sacrifice a chance to return home based on a hunch of mine! And what will happen to those who have to face Starfleet?”

Tom stood at attention. “Permission to speak freely, sir.”

“Go ahead,” Chakotay said with a frown.

_Voyager_ ’s first officer addressed the _Khonsu_ ’s team. “Captain Riker, Commander Troi, please be assured that _Voyager_ ’s crew have made their choice on their own free will, and that Captain Chakotay is in no way responsible for our decision.”

Troi nodded. “I do sense the truth in your words, Commander.”

Chakotay glanced at Riker who seemed to be more amused than concerned by the turn of events.

“Thank you,” Tom responded before turning back to face Chakotay. “Captain, the crew are not afraid of what might happen to them once they arrive home. Since the Pathfinder messages started to come through, we’ve always known it wouldn’t be all fireworks and parties when we got back. My father hinted to some backlash from some people high up in Starfleet in his private conversations to me. I know he’s been working hard behind the scenes, but he didn’t want to push too early and then have to douse our hopes.”

“And he’s right. Our fate rests solely in our hands,” Chakotay ventured, not willing to entertain the faint hope which was forming in his mind.

“But Tuvok and Captain Riker are right too. There will be no shortage of Starfleet people to support _Voyager_ ’s crew.” Tom smiled. “Because, yes, Starfleet can pile dirt on all of us if they want to, but we are proud of who we’ve become while on this ship. And, a lot of it has been because of Captain Janeway. She showed us the way. She pushed us to be the best we could be. It wasn’t enough for her to get home whatever the consequences, whatever the costs. She held tight to the belief we would get home proud of what we’ve achieved.”

B’Elanna moved to Tom’s side, looking at him with pride before carrying on. “What we are saying, is that we want Captain Janeway to return home too. We’ve got one chance to do it, right now, right here.”

Grasping the rail in front of him, Chakotay thought quickly. He was appalled at what his crew had been hiding from him, and yet in awe of their loyalty to both him and Janeway. This crew, these people, were more than he had ever hoped for when he had first set foot on _Voyager_. “I just can’t ask...” he argued, even as he knew he had already lost the battle.

“You don’t have to ask.” Tom shrugged. “That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you. Captain Janeway sacrificed herself so we could get home a bit faster. Now, it’s time for us to fight for her. Lead us back to her. You are our captain. We will follow you.”

“Seems you’ve got a mutiny on your hands, Captain,” Riker said with a wide grin. As far mutinies went, this was a strange one indeed, but neither Riker or Troi seemed too bothered.

_Voyager_ ’s bridge officers stood proud and resolute, and Chakotay smiled at them, hope filling his veins.“Captain Janeway’s life is in our hands, and we cannot let this opportunity pass. We will take _Voyager_ back to the void.”

Everyone relaxed, ready to burst into applause, but Ayala looked at his console. “We might have to hurry. The enemy ships have accelerated again. They’ll be here within two hours and they are not alone. A whole armada is coming our way.”

“Red alert, Ayala.”

~ _Commander Hartono to Captain Riker_.~

“Riker here.”

~ _All preparations for_ Voyager _’s crew evacuation have been finalised, sir.~_

“Put the _Khonsu_ on red alert and standby, Number One.”

Troi moved forward. “I can help coordinate the evacuation from _Voyager_ ’s end. I’ll be able to reassure those who want to go on how they’ll be treated once on the _Khonsu_.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Chakotay said. “We don’t have much time, but I would like to thank you both for your support. I do hope my decision will not cause you any problems in turn.”

“Let me handle Starfleet Command. You might be going against many protocols, but you've made the right choice,” said Riker. “I’ll return to my ship and ready it to go to warp as soon as all who are prepared to come with us are on board. You have my word. I won’t let them or you down. And I look forward to learning of your success in finding Captain Janeway,” Riker said, seizing his hand in a last farewell.

Chakotay waited for the two officers to leave before sitting in his bridge chair, his mind clear at last of any doubts and self-reproach.

* * *

“The transporter relays are heating up. They were never meant to be working this hard, Lieutenant.”

“They’ll have to hold a little while longer. Commander Troi is the last of your crew to transport over, then Commander Tuvok and I will return to _Voyager_ ,” Kim answered, busy realigning the flagging transporter buffers.

The _Khonsu_ ’s officer flicked through the PADD, frowning. “There’s still sixty people left to transport over according to _Voyager_ ’s manifest.”

“Haven’t you heard? We’re going back to search for Captain Janeway.”

The man lifted his eyes, incredulous. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, Lieutenant, but haven’t you seen enough of the Delta quadrant?”

Harry smiled. “Maybe, but—”

The console powered down and refused to obey his commands.

_~_ Voyager _to_ Khonsu _.~_

“Transporter room here,” the _Khonsu_ crewman said.

_~Commander Troi here. I'm ready to come on board.~_

“The relays need cooling. I estimate they'll be fully operational in five minutes.”

_~Five minutes? I’ll wait. Troi out.~_

No sooner had the comlink fallen silent than the ship lurched, and the transporter room was thrown into darkness.

* * *

Later, when she took the time to reflect on the events of that first week on _Voyager_ , Deanna would always remember that split second when she’d realised that her fate had become inextricably linked to that of Kathryn Janeway.

It had not been when the news the transporter was malfunctioning had sounded in _Voyager_ ’s transporter room. Neither was it when she’d been thrown to the floor as the enemy fleet swarmed the sector and attacked. Likewise, she missed the _Khonsu_ ’s disappearance, but not Will’s mental anguish at leaving without her as his ship went to high warp to flee the one-sided battle.

It had not been when Chakotay had informed Nechayev of his intention to return for Captain Janeway a few days later. Unfortunate interferences had garbled much of the admiral’s apoplectic message.

Even then, Deanna had felt disconnected from the events changing so fast around her, their significance and impact not quite sinking in. Counsellors, it seemed, could do denial as skilfully as many of their patients.

Surprisingly, it had not been when she recorded yet another message for Will, which would be sent whenever possible. _Voyager_ had led the enemy ships away from the _Khonsu_ and deeper into the Delta quadrant for days, and the Pathfinder array was nowhere close for now. But she always tried to be in good spirits for Will’s sake, while drowning inside.

Instead, the emotional aftermath of her fate hit her squarely a few days after setting foot in the former captain’s quarters that Chakotay had given her. One evening, she’d entered the room, empty of any personal link to its previous occupant, and yet still inhabited somehow by the ghost of a woman who could make an entire crew risks their lives and future rescuing her. At that moment, on the threshold of a decades-long journey, Deanna promised herself that she would help find and save Kathryn Janeway. And in doing so, maybe save herself too.

Over the next two years, she made _Voyager_ her home, and committed herself to its ‘alien crew’ as she’d referred to them once upon a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference to Episode S03E02 _Flashback_.


	9. A White Ship Led by Dark Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously:  
>  _B’Elanna walked to Chakotay and put her hand on his arm, her voice earnest. “Take_ Voyager _and take us with you. Not the whole crew, of course. Most have families in the Alpha quadrant and want to return, but you’d be surprised how many don’t mind staying in this quadrant for a bit longer if it means we’ve got a chance to get Captain Janeway back.”_

Murmurs danced around her. Whispers of void and emptiness blotting out the stars. Tentacles of darkness, reaching out to catch those who dared escape back into the light. An immense black ship forever on the lookout, its scouts swarming to dismember wayward alien ships and feed on the remains.

To clear her mind, Janeway focused on the deep rumbling beneath her feet. She was no longer ensconced in the shuttle. Looking up, all she saw were dark-clad figures with pale and scarred faces, and beyond them hard walls of metal. The stars were nowhere to be seen, the ones she’d glimpsed when she had first awakened, and she prayed she wasn’t back in the void. The how and the why she’d been brought here, on this ship, that she didn’t know.

“Where am I?”

_You fled the Desolation and crossed into the Rim. We hunted you and brought you here._

The words sounded inside her head. A telepathic race?

_You were cold and lifeless, your mind empty. Did you seek murru?_

She winced under the strength of the voice. Her voice. Demanding an answer.

“Murru? What is it?”

_Murru is cleansing. Cleansing comes through death. Death erases all. We all seek murru._

A shiver ran down her spine. Had she sought death? Once, she had craved solitude because she couldn’t bear to face her crew. That’s why she had plunged into the darkness so readily. But had there been more to her wish?

“I didn’t seek death. I helped my ship escape the void,” she said, loathe to admit anything else to the tall man talking inside her head.

_What is your ship? What is your name?_

“I am Captain Janeway, of the Federation starship _Voyager_.”

Murmurs rose into cries painfully echoing inside her skull.

 _Voyager of the Federation._ The man spat out the name as if it was a curse. _So, your tiny craft was indeed spawned from that obscenity._

Had her crew encountered these people when they had left the void? What had happened to them?

_A white ship, with a man on the bridge led by his dark thoughts. We haven’t forgotten him._

Was the man talking about Chakotay? “A white ship, yes,” she said, fearing _Voyager_ ’s fate. “What did you do to it? What did you do the crew?”

 _A white ship which fled the cleansing that must come to those who escape the Desolation,_ said her interrogator, ever louder. Anger and loathing weaved through the man’s words.

 _Because it is written_ , the man continued in her voice, _that all who cross the Desolation must be purified. We, the Shabma, were cleansed, and now we are its keepers. It is what we do. It is who we are._

The crowd erupted in mind-shouts and raised fists. Janeway’s legs doubled over under the fury flooding her mind, but the two guards at her side kept her upright until the wave abated.

A much older man pushed a finger under her chin, his intricate facial scarring like a mask hiding an even deeper emptiness behind it. _Were you sacrificed? Did the man on the bridge leave you to die in the Desolation in the hope it would wipe the taints off him and his ship?_

She fought her own voice in her mind to let the words out. “I took the shuttle of my own volition.” She’d been too eager to throw herself into the darkness like one tosses a stick into a fire and watches it burn and only ashes are left behind.

The older man bared his teeth in a rictus, as if he had found the answer he was after. _Then, you chose to die._ He turned to the crowd _. She chose murru!_ he repeated, and the shout rang inside her mind while the guards shuffled her in a tight circle, as if on display.

 _Chose, chose_ , the incantation flew up the dark walls and crashed into her mind, wiping all thoughts aside. _She chose murru_ , they intoned, and she fought the truth in their words. Because it was not her truth any longer. She wanted to live, she’d proved it, even if she had needed to taste the darkness to hope again for the light. But her life was irrelevant. _Voyager_ had escaped both the void and those people now holding her. Her ship had continued on its way home, his new captain at the helm. Nothing else mattered.

The acclamations hushed down into silence, and she slumped once more against the guards, her mind suddenly emptied.

 _And yet, you live. You didn’t achieve murru. Your sacrifice wasn’t_ _granted_. _The ship should have been cleansed, but it flew away. I, Rohynu, guardian of the Shabma, failed. We, the Shabma, failed._

 _We failed. We failed_ , the incantation clamoured.

 _The ship must be summoned,_ Rohynu roared. _And this time, we will purify all who dared escape, and devour what remains._

Janeway cackled. “ _Voyager_ ’s got a four-year lead on you. You’ll never catch up with my ship. You’ll never find my crew.” _Voyager_ was safe. Chakotay was safe.

The tall man bent over, teeth bared. _I am leader. I am Isitu. I tasted the mind of Chakotay of_ Voyager _. He refused to bow to our demands, but his dark thoughts betrayed him. We don’t need to pursue your ship, Janeway of_ Voyager _. We will call it back._

“You can do whatever you want to me, but my crew will never return for me. They think me dead.”

He cast his eyes at her frostbitten hand which had turned black in the stasis pod.

 _You still seek murru, it seems._ _I promise you’ll get your wish. But not yet. Not until you watch our strykers rip apart the hull of your ship and bare its insides to the vacuum of space. Not until you hear the man on its bridge curse you before he dies. Only then will your sacrifice be complete._

The crowd exploded again, and she buckled under the onslaught before being dragged out of the room, Isitu in front. _Voyager_ was thousands of light-years away and the shuttle comms would never reach it. Chakotay would never come back. He would never know she was alive.

Because the Shabma leader had been right of course. She had once wished to die.

**⁂**

Another dark room with no outside screens or windows. Straps snaked over her arms, chest, abdomen and legs, holding her against the hard board she’d been thrown on. Isitu stayed in the background and another man stood at her side, one with only a few scars on his cheeks. Using thin pointy rod, he prodded at the dead flesh of her hand.

“Who are you?” she asked.

 _I am Ashrak_ , he said. His voice was softer than that of Isitu, taking on her own conversational tone.

The rod pierced the blackened skin of her fingers, but she felt nothing until the systematic prodding reached the healthy tissues of her lower arm. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

 _I cut off what is diseased_.

Ashrak moved around her, tightening her bonds, while Isitu smiled in her head.

 _Let the calling begin_ , he said, and a rumbling and growling storm gathered force in her mind, carrying her screams far beyond the Shabma ship.

* * *

Chakotay woke with a start, heart pounding, legs and arms tangled in the bedsheets. He tasted foulness in his throat and forced the vile wave down. Never before had he felt that unescapable pain, curdling and unremitting.

His combadge chimed, and he reached for it with a trembling hand.

~Deanna Troi, here. Are you all right, Captain?~

He sat up, sweat cooling his skin while his heart still rampaged in his chest. “I…Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

~I sense great distress coming from you. Great pain.~

“It was a bad dream. I’m sorry to have woken you up.”

Only a bulkhead separated his quarters from the counsellor’s—frontline location to feel his agony. Because that’s what he’d felt, but the pain was now fading rapidly, like a dying echo inside a deep dark place, far away.

A scream in the night.

Kathryn.

Shaking, he put his head between his hands. It couldn’t be her. He was no empath like the kind woman waiting patiently at the end of the comlink. It was just his confused mind playing tricks on him as _Voyager_ plunged ever closer towards the void. Another couple of months at most, and they would be searching for a lost shuttle, and the task ahead filled him with both hope and despair.

~If you want to talk, please do come and see me. I’ll be working with the EMH all morning,~ the woman said with a lilting voice which always seemed to soothe him.

“I appreciate your concern,” he said, “but I’m due for my extra shift in engineering in less than fifteen minutes. I better get ready. My apologies again.”

~As you wish, Captain. Troi out.~ He didn’t miss the disquiet in the woman’s voice as she ended the comlink.

Troi had asked him many times to make use of her counselling skills since she had become part of _Voyager_ ’s crew by default. He’d always been able to push another crew member in front of him, or state that he had pressing duties to attend to. After all, with only sixty people on board when the ship had once required one hundred and forty to operate, his days were packed. Like everyone else, he was on double shifts, filling in wherever somebody needed an extra pair of hands. He asked for the more labour-intensive jobs, so somebody could have a rest while he toiled, mind numbed. Even Kathryn did not know _Voyager_ as intimately as he did now.

Would she even recognise her ship now? Five decks were closed off, including the holodecks, two of the cargo bays, airponics, the science labs and most of the crew’s quarters to save energy and reduce the need for more dilitihium. What had been left running was geared to only one thing: getting back to the void as quickly as possible to find their captain.

Chakotay pushed himself up and trudged to the bathroom. Long grey hair matted on his forehead faced him in the mirror. On a whim, he took the shaver from the drawer under the basin, set it up for a Starfleet regulation hair cut, and erased months of growth in a few minutes.

When he arrived in engineering, B’Elanna nodded her approval. “Good riddance. I’ve never liked that stupid ponytail of yours,” she said before sending him off to recalibrate the long-range sensors to scan for Janeway’s shuttle.

He could do that.

* * *

Riker left his quarters a few minutes before the start of the alpha shift, a pressed uniform on his shoulders, four pips on the collar and shiny boots on his feet, as he had done every morning for the past two years. He wasn’t sure what was the more mind-sapping. The deadening daily routine, or the adrenaline plunge following yet another battle they’d avoided by zipping away at a warp speed unequalled in this quadrant. Catering for lowly dignitaries as the _Enterprise_ ’s first officer had never sounded more appealing.

Deanna had been with him then.

The corridor was empty, a rare state of affairs on the overcrowded ship, but they were soon to arrive in the Alpha quadrant. _Voyager_ , in contrast, was closing in on its goal. Two ships separated by more than three decades of travel, at _Voyager_ ’s speed. Bar a miracle, he wasn’t going to hold Deanna in his arms for a very long time.

And all because he had not insisted she came back to the _Khonsu_ with him, ahead of _Voyager_ ’s people. In the battle that had ensued, he had flown away to protect his extended crew, while _Voyager_ had taken most of the hits, and in the process, he’d abandoned her. The fact that he could now understand Chakotay’s deep feeling of guilt at leaving Janeway behind did little to ease his pain. Deanna’s fate was in the hands of a man bent on pursuing a woman _Voyager_ had left for dead. A man with anger in his heart and wild beliefs in his mind. Will could only hope that Chakotay would honour his Starfleet training and his former captain’s faith in him, and not sacrifice everybody on his crazy quest.

And get Deanna back to him.

The turbolift door opened. He gave a nod to Tuvok at tactical. T’Pwur focused on her navigation console, while Hartono was already seated in the first officer’s chair. Riker crossed the small bridge to sit beside him.

Another day in the Delta quadrant.

* * *

“I’ve finalised my calculations on the most probable trajectories of Captain Janeway’s shuttle.”

“Put it on screen, Seven,” Chakotay said.

Although the ship was only half the size of the _Enterprise_ , Deanna had had little to do with the former Borg drone since leaving the _Khonsu_. The young woman didn’t spend much time in the mess hall, the best place to meet people outside their duties. After a couple of short and sharp conversations, which had ended with an imperious “I do not require counselling”, Seven only addressed her when strictly necessary.

Deanna had not intruded, resigned to observing her from afar. Seven was a fascinating woman, with a Vulcan’s load of suppressed emotions underneath that catsuit of hers. The young woman certainly had made her revise her opinion of the Borg. Once liberated from their metal armour, they were all individuals, with their pain and hopes, and carrying the stigma of their past.

And what were Seven’s hopes for her future? Had she stayed on _Voyager_ because of a fear of what awaited her on Earth, or because of her strong friendship with Janeway, even one fraught with many setbacks according to the former captain’s logs?

The senior officers turned as one to face the wall screen. Their physical and emotional weariness combined with their zealous focus on finding Janeway weighed on Deanna’s mind. Not for the first time, she asked herself who this woman was who could command that kind of loyalty to the point of worship, years after she’d been given up for dead. It was fascinating to watch, and alarming too.

The only other person she’d known who could generate such loyalty was Picard, an exceptional captain with decades of experience. And yet, his friendship was measured, his words always considered, his emotions under control. His was a captaincy based on adherence to the highest Starfleet principles and rarely swayed by personal matters. He knew of guilt and anger, but very seldom had she seen a crack in the armour he seemingly carried with ease. He would have been a good captain to have here, in the Delta quadrant, but would he have been the best? Where once she would have said yes without hesitation, Deanna was not so sure any longer.

Janeway, from what she knew of _Voyager_ ’s captain through logs and conversations with the crew, seemed as decisive as the captain of the famous _Enterprise_ , and yet so much different. The same Starfleet discipline outwards, but a mass of emotions, of doubts and guilt and single-mindedness underneath, of self-abnegation bordering on self-destruction—no doubt amplified by her own tragic past and the unique circumstances she’d faced. For all that these people wanted their former captain back, Deanna wondered who would return to them.

If Janeway was alive. But that wasn’t a thought worth uttering aloud among this crew.

And then, there was Chakotay, their captain, who was attentively listening to Seven’s analysis. There was a darkness to him that appealed to her. As single-minded as Janeway, but even more private. A solid man, strong of will, and with hidden depths of sensitivity. A man looking at her with probing eyes, but he wasn’t Will and—

“Commander?” Chakotay asked.

Deanna blinked. “Sorry, Captain. I got...distracted.”

Seven was unmoved. As usual. “As I was saying, the shuttle should have already left the void by now. Unfortunately, pinpointing exactly where it might have emerged is more difficult to estimate. Only a tenth of a degree off the most direct course since the shuttle departed _Voyager_ , and the cone of uncertainty covers a hundred light-years. One degree and we are looking at an area of more than ten thousand light-years.”

“ _Voyager_ ’s long-range sensors aren’t powerful enough to pick a dark-mode shuttle. It will take us weeks to search that volume of space,” Tom noted.

“I concur,” said Seven. “However, assuming Captain Janeway kept the shuttle on a very narrow course to reduce fuel consumption and leave the void as early as possible, this small region should be the start of our search pattern.”

“Behind that asteroid field?” Wanting to show she’d been listening, Troi pointed at a vast belt of rocks surrounding the void.

A wave of emotions hit her. Alarm, dismay, disgust. “Is something wrong?” she asked, as the faces of _Voyager_ ’s officers went pale.

“We left the void not far from there, only to run into a hostile telepathic species called the Shabma,” Chakotay said, his hands white against the table. “We escaped them by the thinnest of margins. More than twenty crewmen were injured in that encounter, and the damage to the ship took two weeks to repair.”

“How hostile?” Deanna asked.

“Tom? Put _Voyager_ ’s logs on screen. Stardate 52082.”

There it was again, that dread and loathing filling the minds of those surrounding her. Under their influence, what Deanna saw were not small black ships darting in and out of view among the rocks, but carrion birds setting upon their prey.

“We purify those who escape from the Desolation. We cut off what is tainted and feed from the rest.” That’s what their leader told us when we crossed their territory.” Chakotay’s voice deepened. “A shuttle won’t stand a chance against them.”

On the screen, the vultures continued to prowl.


	10. Message In A Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously:  
>  _“I didn’t seek death. I helped my ship escape the void,” she said, loathe to admit anything else to the tall man talking inside her head._  
>  What is your ship? What is your name?  
>  _“I am Captain Janeway, of the Federation starship_ Voyager _.”_

“Captain, I’m receiving a communication with a Starfleet signature, but the signal magnitude is very weak. Compensating.”

Chakotay waited for Celes to clear up whatever problem she was having with the comms array. This deep in the Delta quadrant, communications with Starfleet were irregular at best despite the signal-boosting buoys they’d left behind to improve reception.

All news from the _Khonsu_ were channelled through Starfleet Command, and he had had no direct contact with his crew so far. On a more positive note, Nechayev, no doubt urged by Riker, had rescinded her order to keep _Voyager_ ’s people on a very short leash. Their conduct while on the _Khonsu_ had been exemplary throughout from what Paris had told him, filling him with pride.

But they were hardly out of the woods. The powerful alliance of Captain Picard and Admirals Sulu and Paris could only do so much until the _Khonsu_ reached Federation space. As Chakotay had foreseen, his decision to turn _Voyager_ back had infuriated those who still wanted the Maquis’ heads, even if many 'fleets had stayed behind too. The fate of the entire crew, the ones soon to reach the Alpha quadrant, and those who would not see their families and home skies for decades to come, still hung in the balance.

He stared at the streaks of light on the bridge screen. Kathryn was out there. Alive. He was sure of that. He had heard her cry of pain in the night. How? He didn’t know. The Shabma were telepathic, sure, but their ability didn’t carry far from what he’d experienced after _Voyager_ ’s first and last encounter.

But if she had not fallen into their hands, where was she?

And if she had, what had they done to her that her agony had reached him?

“Sir!” Celes had awe in her tone. “It’s a message from Captain Janeway’s shuttle. For you.”

Chakotay’s breath caught in his chest. A message from Kathryn. She had escaped the void. Avoided the Shabma. The shout in the night had been a meaningless nightmare after all.

“Patch it through to the ready room,” he uttered, not trusting his voice to say more. In his haste, he almost vaulted over the rail.

* * *

Janeway tightened the rag where her left arm fused with the artificial hand that Ashrak, that vivisectionist surgeon from hell, had bonded to the stump. Then she followed who passed for an engineer on the Shabma ship down the dark corridor. The ship growled and shifted around her, the walls dripping with condensation and the floors oozing plasma leaks underfoot.

She’d never seen such a ramshackle vessel. It was a miracle it was still holding tight against vacuum given the flimsy hull and antiquated systems thrown together from the dozens of alien ships picked to the bone. The Shabma had been in space for countless generations, the thoughts in her head whispered, hemmed between an asteroid field impenetrable to the massive _City_ , as they called their ship, and a void which filled them with a terror barely kept in check by appalling beliefs and brutal rituals.

Theirs was the true life of scavengers, always on the look out for exhausted victims stumbling out of the Desolation and wandering into their territory. And as the void was large and their quarries few, the Shabma and their ship went hungry more often than not.

She stopped at a cavernous opening which cut vertically through the deck and continued in both directions. Janeway sent a mental command to the sub-processor in her prosthesis. The articulated metal rods serving as fingers squeezed the flimsy rail as she leaned over for a better look. Small figures traipsed up and down a long spiral walkway while ships of all types dangled precariously from their cradles, the noses angled down as if ready to take off at a moment’s notice. _Strykers_ , came the answer to her question. _We are many. We fly out and hunt down wounded ships. We found you. Brought you and your tomb back._

She winced at the intentional stab of pain which came with the words spoken in her head. With every passing day, the Shabma burrowed a little more inside her mind, and there was no escape from their thoughts. “My shuttle is down there?” she managed to utter aloud.

_It is bringing the white ship back to us._

The voices rose and rose. _The white ship will be cleansed. Will be. Will be._

She pushed herself back to the relative safety of the rickety floor, and followed her captors deeper into the bowels of the _City_.

* * *

Chakotay moved to the window behind the desk, drink in hand. How many times had he seen Kathryn contemplating the darkness beyond, hands around a steaming cup of coffee? And now...

Now…

“She recorded the message a few weeks only after we left her behind in the void,” he said for the benefit of the counsellor who had remained silent since entering the room, her presence comforting and irksome at the same time. “And we were right, she did build a stasis pod. She did want to live after all. Even when faced with impossible odds, she wanted to live.”

Troi approached him, her compassion easy to see. “The message from Captain Janeway is on a repeat loop, according to Lieutenant Celes. She is certain that it couldn’t have been sent from within the void, so the shuttle did make it through, like you said it would.”

“But you can’t sense anything from her.”

She shook her head and went to sit on the couch, hands folded on her knees, there to offer her support if he needed it, like he had done for Kathryn many times. Until it had not been enough. Until he had not been enough.

In her message, Kathryn had talked about the crew, her ‘hiding in her quarters’, her will to survive, his capacity as captain. What she had not said was plain to see in the pauses, the pained smile, the night falling on her face. She had let him go because there was no way she could hold onto him.

“When the ship hit the void, she retreated into her quarters. After several days of waiting, I went to see her.” He willed crushing the cup in his hand, but the thick replicated metal defied him. Instead, he took a gulp, hardly feeling the hot tea slide down his throat.

“I told her that she’d picked a bad time to isolate herself from the crew. I said that this ship needed a captain, especially when her crew was hurting. As if she didn’t know. As if reminding her of her position and responsibilities would solve her problems,” he said, still facing the viewport which mercifully wasn’t showing his reflection. “Then I stood on the bridge and said nothing when she decided to leave _Voyager_ , and while we saw the stars a few minutes later, she stayed in that darkness, alone, in a shuttlecraft barely bigger than the brig.” His jaw was hurting as he recalled the moment. “I might as well have pushed her out of _Voyager_ with my bare hands for all the good I did.”

“It was the captain’s choice. Blaming yourself will not change that.” Only a slight break in Troi’s voice reminded him that she knew exactly what it felt to be left behind even if it hardly been anyone’s fault in her case.

When he’d shown Troi to Janeway’s quarters, the evening after the transporter accident on the _Khonsu_ , he had uttered all the right words. Said he understood how she must feel, how hard it must be for her to be separated from her husband. But Troi had never complained about her fate, instead helping his crew deal with their own pains and losses as the gap between the two ships increased every day.

In his search for one woman, he had ignored another who had suffered too.

He turned around to face her. “I am sorry, Counsellor. I am truly sorry for what happened to you and for my insensitivity to your plight. I can’t—”

“The transporter accident was unforeseeable, and I’m grateful for what you did to protect my former ship and crew. You gave the _Khonsu_ a chance to escape by engaging the enemy fleet and drawing their ships away. I am fortunate I found myself here rather than lost in a matter stream, or rematerialising on the moon’s surface,” Troi said with a kind smile. “You shouldn’t worry about me. I am a Starfleet officer. It’s part of the job.”

“And I’m the captain, and I should have been of more help to you.” He sank in the chair by the desk. He wondered about Riker’s reaction, so close to home but with his wife on a small ship decades away. The Delta quadrant kept taking and taking, with no end in sight.

Until he remembered what Kathryn would be facing now. Troi was right. They were the lucky ones compared with what she was facing. “I never thought Captain Janeway would encounter the Shabma,” he said, his mind never straying far from Kathryn.

“She did escape the void, and she might have escaped them too. A small shuttle might have flown through their territory undetected.”

Troi’s logic grounded him. If he was to help Kathryn, he needed to think, not let his emotions get the better of him. “Then why send that old message? Why send a message at all for that matter? She couldn’t anticipate I would ever receive it.”

“She might not have realised it at the time, but expressing those thoughts aloud and sharing them with you would have bolstered her newly found resolve to survive the journey through the void.”

“How long will her courage last if the Shabma hold her? I can still hear their hate churning in my head.” He thought of telling Troi about his nightmare, the one where he’d heard Kathryn’s scream, but decided against.

Troi looked down at her hands. “Some people, when hope is taken away from them,”—she flinched—“all they have left to rely on is pure grit. The will and utter stubborness to carry on whatever the circumstances, and—”

“—And if there’s an obstacle barring their path, they just punch their way through. Full impulse,” Chakotay said, with half a chuckle.

Troi looked at him, puzzled.

“Something the captain said one day, early in our journey. _Voyager_ was being sucked into a black hole, and with B’Elanna’s help she got us out even as the odds of escaping were narrowing right in front of our eyes.” Chakotay smiled at the memory of another time.

“That determination is a trait shared by many on your ship, Captain. That is why they followed you.”

Chakotay took a deep breath. He’d been embarrassed very early on when he’d realised how an empath would have no problems seeing through his feelings for Kathryn. Maybe his burden would have been lessened if he had made use of Troi’s skills much earlier. Like Kathryn when they had crossed the void, he had taken refuge behind walls of his own making and ignored help when offered freely. And it wasn’t only Troi. His crew, Janeway’s crew, had been there for him all along. He had never been alone.

“Thank you,” he said with sincere gratitude.

Troi smiled widely, then she tilted her head towards the door. “So, what do you say we get our wayward crew member back?”

With renewed hope in his heart, he followed the counsellor out of the ready room and back to the bridge

“Seven has found the source of Captain Janeway’s signal,” Tom said as they entered. “It does come from the other side of the asteroid field, but we can’t narrow down its exact position from here.”

“Good job.” Chakotay sat down in the captain’s chair. “Yellow alert. Deflector shield on pulse, so we can see any Shabma ship coming our way. One hundred milliseconds. Range, twenty thousand kilometres.”

“Pulse initiated, sir,” Celes announced.

“Tom, bring us inside the asteroid field, half impulse.”

“Aye, sir. Half impulse.”

 _Voyager_ plunged among the rocks dancing around it.


	11. A City in Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously:  
>  _“Tom, bring us inside the asteroid field, half impulse.”  
>  “Aye, sir. Half impulse.”_  
> Voyager _plunged among the rocks dancing around it._

_The white ship is coming, coming, coming._

The chant, almost a song now, travelled through the _City_ , all minds tuned like one towards the approaching ship. Janeway had to brace herself against a bulkhead, her mind buffeted by the mental tide of thoughts rolling and ebbing. She’d never believed Isitu’s grandiose claim that _Voyager_ would come back. It had to be another ship. Another captain seeking their death here. It couldn’t be Chakotay. It couldn’t be.

 _Come, Janeway of Voyager. Come and watch_ , Rohynu’s voice ordered, and she pushed herself upright, obeying the Shabma she’d first met during her interrogation. Over the weeks, he’d taunted her, feeding her mind with images of destruction and death. She’d learned to wall off a part of herself when his thoughts invaded hers, but physical proximity made that barrier so much more difficult to maintain, and she dreaded going to him.

Urged ever upwards by his commands, she climbed the large spiral ramp running through the decks of the ship.

 _Move out, let us pass,_ said dozens of stryker pilots, racing down in the opposite direction towards the stryker bays. _Listening, finding, hounding, circling. We are ready,_ they intoned, and her feet faltered under the fever pitch sweeping the ship.

Rohynu summoned her to his side once more, drilling his command into her skull. She entered a cavernous hall, the bridge of an ancient giant ship highjacked by the Shabma in their never-ending quest to destroy all who crossed their territory. Blank screens and consoles meant for larger beings than the Shabma had been left to gather dust. The Shabma re-used the alien technology they plundered, but much lay idle and silent, building the _City_ by gradual accretion like an ancient reef system. What was small enough was fed to the ever-hungry engines which kept the ship running and its inhabitants alive.

A long and semi-circular window jutted out into space at the end of vast cantilevered deck, and Janeway stopped a few metres away, awestruck. It was the first time she had seen something other than black walls and dim corridors since being hauled out of the shuttle—how long ago? Weeks rather than days. A month perhaps. She had no way of knowing when the voices never left her to rest for more than a couple of hours at a time. As in the void, day and night had no meaning here.

A huge vault of tumbling rocks stretched far above the Shabma ship, reaching well into the distance. Faint starlight peeked through the gaps, not enough to pierce the dark and forbidding void spread like a bottomless sea under the ship. She had breathed and choked within it, had almost drowned. Escaped by the merest of miracles, only to fall among those who worshiped it as if an insatiable god.

 _Behold the face of the Desolation which is all there ever was, all there is and all there will ever be, Janeway of_ Voyager _. Only those who seek murru are permitted here. We cleanse those who merely wish to live._

She shuddered under the utter conviction bleeding into her head. Central to their beliefs, their cult of death stood supreme, fitting a society with little choice about how its people might die, and even less about how they might live.

Before the Shabma priest repeated his order, she joined him near the window overlooking the sprawling _City_. From her vantage point, she could see a vast ashen expanse of countless tusk-like spires taller than Starfleet Headquarters, and littered with rocks and dust from the asteroid field above. Massive machines wandered through, picking at the hull for debris with their multiple limbs. One of the units walked in front of them on the outside of the window, cleaning the transparent aluminium. Her hand reached out, seeking a connection as if recognising a long-lost cousin, and the machine stopped for half a second, its ponderous mass blocking the view, before resuming its task and disappearing below deck.

Ships of many shapes and sizes, black as night, flowed from multiple gaping openings towards the asteroids. Strykers, she guessed. Like everything else, the Shabma had repurposed fighters from countless species to use as their own attack fleet, their original designation and purpose long erased.

_Your ship is hiding within the Rim which circles the Desolation. The strykers will find it once more, Isitu will bring it here, and then the cleansing will start. You will see and hear and witness, and only then will I allow you to achieve murru._

He filled her mind, taking no notice of the mental wall behind which she hid her most private thoughts.

Thoughts of sabotage and escape.

* * *

Black ships, more than Chakotay could count, popped up on the screen, a wave flickering in and out of sight and surrounding _Voyager_. _We are many, many, many,_ danced the voices in his head.

“Deflector shield at forty per cent,” Celes said, her voice straining under the Shabma mental onslaught.

Paris manoeuvred the ship around a cluster of jumbled rocks .“I don’t understand. They aren’t really attacking.”

“They learnt their lessons last time. They are trying to shepherd us out of the asteroid field towards their lead ship.” Chakotay said. “Anything from the captain, Commander?” he asked, as another hit made the ship move under his seat.

The counsellor shook her head, her face crumpling under the strain. “There’s too many of them,” she said. “They are like a pack, howling. I can’t make any—”

 _We meet again,_ Voyager _of the Federation._

Chakotay stood.

_You have come back to claim your sacrifice._

“What sacrifice, Isitu?”

 _The one named Janeway of_ Voyager _. The one you left behind. The one who called you back._

The voice sounded much stronger in his head than when he had first heard it. “What have you done to her? If you’ve—”

_She lives still. She didn’t complete murru. Your sacrifice failed._

His fists clenched at his side. “She was never a sacrifice.”

 _No matter. She failed. You failed. You must be cleansed. We’ve waited for you,_ Voyager _of the Federation. Can you hear the thunder? Come to us, Chakotay of_ Voyager _._

And dozens of Shabma minds joined together into one vast roar inside his head, overwhelming all individual thoughts.

“Doctor, now!” Chakotay hit the comms on his console, before convulsing in his seat, induced spikes of neuronal activity short-circuiting his brain, those of _Voyager_ ’s crew and of everybody telepathically linked to them.

Chakotay didn’t see the asteroid field outside the ship erupting like a string of fireflies, stryker after stryker smashing against the rocks, the minds of their pilots suddenly thrown into chaos. Carried along the telepathic link between all Shabma, the mental shock wave reached the mother ship, and its inhabitants shrieked and writhed as one.

**⁂**

“The neural scrambler worked exactly as I said it would,” the EMH announced proudly, scanning the last of the bridge officers. “I’ve increased the base tolerance to two hundred millihertz to lessen the secondary headaches, but I wouldn’t advise to use those devices again for another few hours. Scrambling one’s brain is not something I recommend doing more often than abosolutely necessary.”

Still reeling from the neural blow, Chakotay lightly touched the small device attached to his neck. Troi opened her eyes, pain etched on her face. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Better, thanks to the Doctor, but…” Her eyes widened and darted from his face to Tom and Celes. “I can’t sense any of you. It’s like you don’t exist anymore in my mind.”

The EMH approached with a hypospray. “Your engrams will take longer to recover, Counsellor. As I explained when I first designed this device, the cerebellum of telepathic species is very sensitive to indirect neural scrambling. Unfortunately, it means you are also susceptible to its effects.”

Chakotay wasn’t after another lesson in interspecies cerebral anatomy. “Did you manage to sense the captain, Commander? Isitu told me she was still alive.”

Troi tilted her neck to let the EMH use the hypospray, and winced at the sudden movement. “Maybe. Very faintly. I can’t even be sure what I picked up was human. The Shabma were too loud, masking anything else.”

“That Isitu could be lying,” Tom noted, the device blinking on and off on his neck.

“I don’t think so,” Troi said. “With that kind of telepathic power, there’s little point. They are fanatics, with deep-rooted beliefs in their righteous cause. They want us, they want the ship. We’ve wronged them, and nothing will stop them.” She put her hand to her head, massaging her temple.

Chakotay sighed deeply. He had hoped for more certitude as to Kathryn’s status. Where was she? Did she even know _Voyager_ was back? “Do you think they can read our minds, or force us to do their bidding next time we meet?” Chakotay asked. He’d been taken aback by the mental violence behind the Shabma attack. What if their powers had increased since their last encounter?

“They used their number and brute force to break through our mental barriers, but as long as they don’t come physically close, I don’t believe they can access our thoughts, or impose their will on us. Otherwise, they would have taken control of _Voyager_ already. They might sense an intent if we focus on only one thing, but not articulated thoughts unless we verbalise them.”

Troi looked at him, and she was so obviously uncomfortable that Chakotay straightened his back for some bad news. “Captain Janeway has been under their influence for much longer than us, and at very close quarters,” she added. “She might not be the same person you remember anymore.”

“I can’t believe that,” Chakotay said with a dark smile, ignoring her warning. “The Shabma have got no idea who they’ve got among them.”

He refused to acknowledge the scepticism he could see on the faces surrounding him.

* * *

The shrieking in her head brought her to her knees. Through tear-filled eyes, Janeway watched explosion after explosion lit the asteroid field far in the distance. They were too small and scattered to be _Voyager_. It was the Shabma who had lost the first round, and she smiled despite the pain cutting through her skull. If she could take advant—

Rohynu yanked her up by the hair and shoved her against the window, the scars on his face weaving a glowering mask.

 _That ship will_ _rue the day it crossed the Desolation._

Not since her first interrogation had she tasted the full power of his telepathic mind, its coarse and ragged edges slashing through her thoughts.

Rohynu screamed in her head, but she focused on what she’d sensed when he had locked his mind with Isitu’s. She’d felt Chakotay’s presence, hard and unbending. He’d come all the way back for her, and she’d been too late, too weak to touch his mind when he’d been so close.

 _We’ll erase that abomination that is_ Voyager _. Rip its decks apart, one by one. Cleanse it inside and out._

She pushed against Rohynu’s words. There’d been others around Chakotay. She’d recognised Tom, but where were Tuvok and Harry and her heart sank at the thought they might be dead. And who was close-by, unknown, perceptive, probing, and she’d felt her pain when the Shabma had attacked, and she’d tried to reach her, but Isitu was standing in the centre, too strong, too powerful, preventing her from touching their minds, from touching Chakotay’s because she so wanted to tell him she was alive. Because there was life in her. But not here. Not among the Shabma who’d howled and swarmed and attacked, sure of their victory and filled with righteousness.

Then everyone on _Voyager_ had vanished, the Shabma stryker fleet tossed into mental chaos, Isitu disappearing from her mind, and thus sparing her from the deathly echoes of the Shabma pilots thrown against the rocks. The neural shock had travelled back to the _City_ instantaneously, spreading panic and madness, the whole ship convulsing under the master blow Chakotay had struck.

Rohynu forced her to face him. _We’ll reduce that ship and its crew to rubble and cast what’s left into the Rim to be crushed until dust is all that remains. We will_ _expunge its name, the memory of its people and their pitiful existence from our minds and space. The Shabma and the Desolation will endure for all eternity. Because it is what we do._

His hands around her neck, Rohynu lifted Janeway off the ground with ease. _The last thing you’ll hear in your mind is my voice, Janeway of_ Voyager _. I am going to savour your death, feed from it at my leisure so it lasts me a long time._

Pinned to the window, she thrashed about, but he was too strong, and darkness stretched across her eyes as he pressed his fingers into her throat, slowly and painfully.

And then, a thought emerged in her mind. A single one. As if by its own accord, her artificial hand rose, and steel fingers brushed the side of Rohynu’s face.

The man laughed. _Is that all you can bring against me? A lump of metal as dumb as those brainless machines outside?_

Breathing hard, she snarled at the man. “Ashrak gave it to me in lieu of a hand, remember? I’ve made it work for me.”

Rohynu’s smile disappeared as the metal rods clamped onto his thin flesh and hard bone. His eyes widened, rivulets of pale blood trickled down his facial scars, and she could feel fear filling his thoughts. The pressure on her throat lessened, and she squeezed harder in response.

“The last thing you’ll see will be me.” Her hand crushed Rohynu’s skull and sunk its fingers into the soft flesh beneath. His screams gurgled inside her own mind, then rattled to a whimper, and she fell and fell and fell, and all sounds and thoughts from Rohynu stopped, and he was dead under her, his face a gory mess.

Silence she hadn’t heard for weeks. An emptiness she hadn’t felt for as long. A void inside her mind, growing and spreading until the need to breathe reasserted itself in a violent shudder and with it, thoughts, mercifully hers, came rushing back, shards rather than wholes, chiming and ringing in her head. Janeway unclenched her hand and pushed herself off the dead body, gasping for air, her heart racing.

The machine outside slid back into her line of sight and paused, a silent and impassive witness to what had just happened. In a place where the living were only focused on death, the machines were all but forgotten, but they could become potential allies to a lone human. Standing on unsteady legs, Janeway pressed her bloodied metal hand against the window, pings dancing up and down the fingers. She searched the hand sub-processor for its original programming, when it had belonged to a machine like the one waiting patiently on the other side of the toughened transparent aluminium. Deciphering ancient sub-routines, Janeway found what she needed and sent the order.

The command received, the machine disappeared out of sight while Janeway stumbled across the vast empty bridge. The voices which had dimmed to a low rumble while she had fought Rohynu bubbled in her head once more. She had to hurry.

She scrambled down the spiral ramp. The shuttle. Send a message. The Shabma would send more strykers, bent on purging their territory of anything and anybody daring to defy them. She could not allow that. Chakotay. She needed to tell him what she had been afraid of saying in her last message to him. No, she couldn’t. Nothing had changed. She had to tell him to run. Run, Chakotay, run. Don’t stay for me.

Run.

And she too ran, but shouts soon sounded in her head, echoing along the curved walls. A mob was rushing towards her, the screams already threatening to swamp her mind again.

Determined to reach the stryker bays located dozens of decks below, Janeway climbed over the rail lining the ramp. Judging the distance as well as she could in the dimness, she jumped into the shaft opened under her, arms and legs flailing until her artificial hand closed over something solid which broke her fall. She slammed face first against the side of the ramp, and tasted blood. Without leaving herself time to think, she opened the articulated fingers with one mental command and pushed herself back into the darkness again, pivoting in the air until her hand grabbed at something metres down from her first jump. Bearing her entire weight, the artificial hand pulled on the bony ends of her lower arm.

Her own scream sounded inside her mind, shoving the other voices aside like pawns and she hung onto the pain. As long as she hurt, she was free of the alien minds. And as long as she was free, she would use her last breath to fight for her crew, so they could live.

Once more she jumped into the darkness below while her pursuers howled in frustration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In homage to James Blish, _Cities in Flight_ , published 1950-1962.


	12. Can’t You Hear, Can’t You Hear the Thunder?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously:  
>  _“The last thing you’ll see will be me.” Her hand crushed Rohynu’s skull and sunk its fingers into the soft flesh beneath._

* * *

> _Can’t you hear, can’t you hear the thunder?  
>  You better run, you better take cover._  
>  'Down Under', Business As Usual (1981), Men at Work.

“We are no nearer to finding the captain,” Chakotay said, wincing under stabs of pain lancing his head. The after-effects of the neural shock had still to fully dissipate, instead randomly hitting him.

Momentarily left alone, _Voyager_ hung among the rocks, scanning the immense structure poised at the edge of the asteroid field. Paris, Torres and Seven were discussing the sensor data displayed on the briefing room wall screen when Celes and Neelix entered the room. Holding his head, Neelix sat down with a moan near the counsellor while Celes joined the other officers.

“Commander Troi, can you sense anything?” Chakotay asked.

The woman startled. “Sorry. I…” She put a hand to her brow. “Not Captain Janeway, but something has changed. When the Shabma fighters were attacking us, all I could feel was elation that they were accomplishing something extremely important. Victory was theirs for the taking. But now, the little I can sense is much more visceral, a deep hatred and anger emanating from that ship.”

Another mystery which could wait. “Lieutenant Celes, anything on sensors?”

Celes checked the display on the wall screen. “Nothing within close range, sir. The fighters that can still fly have retreated towards…that,” she said, indicating the massive ship.

“Maintain a full sensor sweep,” Chakotay said before turning back to Troi. “Given its size, there might be hundreds of thousands of Shabma there, but still no trace of the captain?”

She blinked several times. “I can’t really say. Everything feels like I am looking through thick fog. I don’t know how long my impairment will last and how much help I can be to you in the meantime.”

“I can’t imagine what that neural scrambler must feel like for you,” Chakotay said.

“It’s all right,” she said with a wave of her hand. “It happened to me once before, and I recovered.”

That one and only time, years ago, had left her with no telepathic abilities, and it felt like she had gone completely blind and deaf. In this instance, it was different, more like wading through thick tar, with a few sharp sensations poking out of the surface before disappearing again into murkiness.

Chakotay gave her an encouraging smile before moving his attention to the screen showing a partial scan of the mammoth Shabma ship. “Seven, any weaknesses you can spot from here?”

“The configuration of this ship is chaotic,” Seven answered with disdain in her voice. “There is no order in its structure, no logic to its construction. Stabilising engines are dotted around the ship, none big enough to manoeuvre the entire ship by itself. Likewise, I haven’t been able to find a master command centre. Despite its derelict appearance, it remains a formidable structure to attack.”

“What about their shields?” Chakotay asked, scrutinising the schematics on the PADD in front of him.

“The sensors have picked up at least five overlapping forcefields. I suspect that they are meant to protect the ship from rogue asteroids. Even if we could disable one of them, we won’t know if it protects a vital part of the ship or not.”

Chakotay leaned over, his hands on either side of the PADD. “Finding its weak points will take too long. Only a concerted attack from multiple vectors might succeed, and we are one ship only.” He turned his head towards his tactical officer. “Celes, could we use the transporters through those shields?”

“They are powerful and fluctuating randomly. We would need to pinpoint Captain Janeway’s life signs with great accuracy, and then burn through the shields to transport her out.”

“What about trade?”

Chakotay looked at Neelix with disbelief. “Trading with those fanatics?”

“Well, we want something they’ve got. Maybe there’s something they want from us in exchange.”

Paris sniggered. “We know what they want, but I doubt we could make them understand the subtle art of bartering. Not after what we’ve done to their attack ships.”

“They want _Voyager_.” Chakotay turned to face the table, a hard smile on his face.

Troi stayed silent, waiting for a consensus to emerge among the senior officers, and a final decision to be made by the captain. The command of this ship was very much like the _Enterprise_ or the _Khonsu_ from that point of view. But _Voyager_ ’s officers were something else again, obsessively bent on their one and only mission, and she sensed a shift in focus, a clarity in the room, like a sharpened blade cutting through doubt and could-be. She suspected nobody in the room realised how extraordinary they were. All those people, from vastly differing backgrounds, working as one, ignoring the possibility of death, the certainty of harm. Once again, her thoughts turned to the woman who could beget such dedication.

“We play dead and drift towards them, like a Trojan horse.” Paris smiled at Chakotay’s nod.

Torres frowned. “We tried that once with one shuttle against a small Cardassian satellite post. Not a lone ship going against a ship the size of a small country and full of telepaths.”

“Given the scale, it’s practically the same thing,” Celes gestured at the screen.

“But if they scan us, they’ll sure know we aren’t dead,” Neelix noted. “Won’t they suspect something?”

“They have no need for scanning technology,” Troi said. “They can sense us, like I can—” she corrected herself “—could, sense them.”

“I could modify the neural scramblers to bring you close to unconsciousness,” the Doctor said.

“Even if they sense we are not dead, they won’t be able to resist the temptation. Tom, input an automatic course into the helm which will put us in orbit around that mother ship to scan it for Captain Janeway’s life signs.”

“A course which will make them think that _Voyager_ has been damaged and caught into the gravity well of their ship.”

“Exactly. Doctor, modify the neural scramblers. You’ll be in charge of monitoring the external scanning sensors while we are out of it. Once you lock on Captain Janeway’s coordinates, revive us. The Shabma won’t take too kindly to seeing their hostage disappear from under their nose, and we'll need to react quickly to whatever they will throw at us.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Dismissed.”

Everyone stood and left the room for their respective post, leaving Troi stunned.

 _And then what?_ She was used to the _Enterprise_ officers and captain thinking of a way out before going in. _Voyager_ ’s officers in contrast seemed much more careless about planning an escape route. Maybe she had taken too much for granted on Starfleet’s flagship. Support from the Federation, instant communication with Starfleet, a ship with ten times _Voyager_ ’s armament and a saucer separation system enabling a simultaneous attack on two sides. Her sensing the enemy’s emotions in time to assist the captain.

And yet, despite the odds against them, nothing seemed to faze _Voyager_ ’s crew.

She rejoined the bridge, sat at the science station, and readied herself.

* * *

Having left her pursuers behind and out of sight, Janeway hauled herself back onto the spiral ramp, her left arm a dead weight. If she calmed her mind, emptied it of any thoughts of escape, of message, of _Voyager,_ she would have a chance of finding the shuttle.

She ran, her footsteps and mind silent.

**⁂**

The stryker bays were a hub of noise, clangs and telepathic shouts loud enough for her to hear. The cacophony was jarring after the empty decks she’d just traversed. The Shabma ship might be gigantic, but most of it was deserted. Not enough food, not enough resources, a readiness to accept death much too easily, all those factors kept the Shabma population down to a few thousand. Still a formidable force when coupled with telepathic powers focused on one goal only.

She hid behind the landing feet of a squat ship which had most probably started its life as a planetary cargo ship, eons before. Now it was in the service of people who had transformed it into a fighter. Had they done the same to her shuttle? Were they going to use it to infiltrate _Voyager_?

She brushed her sweaty hand against her pants. The place was huge, her time limited. Pilots hurried about, preparing for another strike if the fragments of thoughts she caught as she ran from one stryker to another were any indication.

Fear of failure seeped into her mind and made her falter. She was finding it difficult to calm her racing heart and to dampen her dread. Maybe Tuvok would have achieved that feat, but she could not hope to achieve the same degree of control as the Vulcan. And where was he? What had happened to him that he wasn’t on _Voyager_ ’s bridge? Pain and despair pushed her forward, while the minds around her sharpened their focus.

She sought quietness and silence.

More ships, barely the size of the Delta Flyer. She rushed past them. In the distance, strykers were taking flight, soaring through the forcefield shimmering across the vast hangar door at the end of the shaft.

She was running out of time. She would never find the shuttle, but what choice did she have? She had to help _Voyager_.

Pilots turned their heads towards her as she scurried in the shadows.

Quiet. Silent. But not silent enough.

_She is here, she is here._

She slowed down as her mind betrayed her.

_Janeway._

Isitu’s voice stopped her.

* * *

Chakotay’s thoughts wavered about. He had experienced that strange feeling of rubber-like limbs and a brain made of molasses before, when recovering from injury in sickbay. But he was on the bridge, sitting in his command chair. Slumping rather, as the neural scrambler slowed down his brain waves to a trickle.

Sluggish. Heavy. Thoughts tasting of failure and bitterness.

The Shabma mother ship glided under _Voyager_ ’s bow, a never-ending landscape of vast chasms and sharp spires, each many times larger than _Voyager_. A dark fortress, guarded by hate and fanaticism. A disease, that’s what that ship was, he decided after long minutes spent watching yet not really seeing. And now, it was sending out an infestation of fighters, bent on engulfing _Voyager_.

His heart picking up pace, he half-stood. What was the Doctor doing with that scan? Kathryn had to be there, somewhere within this monstrosity. He had to get her out. He could not leave her among those murderous bastards, and if he could just put his hands around their necks—

He pushed those thoughts down. The telepathic cries and shouts of the Shabma were only a deep rumble, a storm still far away, but he needed to heed their warning. Their pursuers had to believe _Voyager_ ’s crew were helpless after the attack in the asteroid field, the ship stuck on an automatic and leisurely course around the mother ship, tumbling on its axis as if disabled. Defenceless. Waiting to be picked apart.

Chakotay stumbled back in his chair, willing his mind to relax again to give the Doctor more time to search the alien ship for human life signs.

The sensors on the middle console showed the Shabma fighters closing in.

Where was Kathryn? She had to be saved from those fanatics. He had to fight them, kill them, destroy them.

No. Find her first. Slow down.

 _Kathryn_ …


	13. ‘Va, cours, vole, et nous venge’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously:  
>  _The Shabma mother ship glided under_ Voyager _’s bow, a never-ending landscape of vast chasms and sharp spires, each many times larger than_ Voyager _. A dark fortress, guarded by hate and fanaticism._

Isitu stood at the helm and ignored Janeway. She had expected him to kill her on the spot once he’d found her, his wrath dripping like molten lead into her mind. Instead, he’d shoved her into the cabin of a stryker, before freezing her to the spot, his telepathic powers overcoming her feeble resistance.

His sudden change in mood was more frightening than his anger. Maybe he had learned caution after his previous attack had led nowhere, but a calculating Shabma was an even more formidable adversary than a plain fanatical one.

She couldn’t move. Could hardly breathe. All she could do was watch _Voyager_ grow ever closer on the viewscreen.

 _Voyager_.

How often had she told herself she would never seen her ship again? Too far. Too fast. On its way home, safe and in one piece. But there it was. More magnificent than ever. A ray of light against the night behind.

She could not make much details because of the distance, but it looked undamaged, apart from a few blackened areas. Nothing that couldn’t be repaired thanks to a crew which took everything that was thrown at them in their stride. And more than the ship, as glorious as it was, she longed to see the people who were now risking their lives to save hers. Because that was the only reason she could think of for _Voyager_ to be here, as extraordinary as it was.

The nails of her fingers bit into her right palm. Something was wrong. _Voyager_ ’s nacelles were down, and only a few lights shone on the port side now coming into view. It wasn’t fleeing the surge of strykers streaming out of the Shabma ship. _Voyager_ was spinning ever so slowly on itself, not even turning to face the threat. As if inviting its pursuers to follow and pounce, its path leisurely curved over the _City_ , shrieks of triumph pouring from the Shabma strykers now massing behind Isitu’s.

Her eyes darted about the helm console, looking for anything that could let her send out a warning. Most of the instruments were inoperative like so much of the technology the Shabma had pilfered. No sensor array she could recognise to confirm her fear _Voyager_ was in trouble, and no external comms system to alert its captain. The Shabma hardly needed these technological aids, but she didn’t have their telepathic powers.

 _Voyager_ rolled on its back, like a sacrificial doe offering its soft underbelly to a pack of starving wolves.

Was this the end? It was too high a price to pay to have lived through years in the void followed by weeks under Shabma yoke, only to witness _Voyager_ ’s destruction and the death of her crew.

As if he had read her thoughts, Isitu turned towards her, teeth bared, his face a scarred landscape against the dimness of the cabin. _I will avenge Rohynu, who guided our minds into murru. I will slaughter Chakotay and everyone on_ _Voyager in his name, and you’ll watch it happen._ Her voice was harsh in her skull, relentless.

The stryker sped ahead of the pack, hundreds of fighters gathering at its heel.

* * *

~ _Captain Janeway isn’t on the mother ship! She’s right behind us! She’s on the lead fighter_!~ the Doctor said through the internal comm system. ~ _I’m disconnecting the neural scanners_.~

Chakotay fell out of his chair as his thoughts sped back to their normal rate. Whimpers rose from around him, and he heard his own cries joining in.

_Chakotay of Voyager._

A broiling mass of loathing and fury, boosted by the Shabma on the mother ship, rushed to intercept _Voyager_. His mind faltered under the assault, so much stronger again than what they had suffered in the asteroid field.

_You are not hiding anymore behind tumbling rocks and senseless minds. Now, I can take what is ours and tear it apart._

Chakotay dropped to his knees under the formidable mental attack. Troi fell unconscious on the bridge floor alongside Tom, their limbs twitching and eyes rolling back.

 _I’ll push your crew one by one in the furnaces of the_ City _until there is nothing left of them but atoms. You and Janeway will listen to their cries and watch them thrash while they burn, purified at last._

Emptiness threatened. A mental void worse than anything he had ever experienced. Death would be merciful in comparison.

Then Isitu’s grip on his thoughts lessened, another mind bleeding into his and pushing the pain away. Hatred flowed from it, unrecognisable in its power, and yet familiar. The insight made him act.

“Celes,” Chakotay managed to utter. “Transporter. Now.” Receiving no answer, he turned around. Celes was slumped over her console, unresponsive.

_I’ll fly your ship into the Rim and leave it for the rocks to grind into dust, and you with it._

_I. Will. Not. Let You._ Kathryn’s voice. Steeled and hard-edged.

 _Ah… the one who denied herself murru speaks. Do not worry, Janeway. Once I’m finished with_ Voyager _, I’ll rip your limbs apart and weld your body to the prow of the_ City _, so you can behold the Desolation with your empty eyes for the rest of eternity_ _._

With Isitu’s attention momentarily focused on Janeway, Chakotay gulped a few welcome breaths of air for the first time in what had felt eons but must have been less than a few seconds since Isitu’s vicious mental attack. He pushed himself to his feet. A couple of steps and he would reach Celes’ console. Get Kathryn. Fly out of this hell and never return.

_But before you achieve murru, you will both bow to the Shabma._

Chakotay’s legs collapsed from under him before he had made two steps.

 _I will bow no longer,_ he heard Kathryn in his mind.

 _Then you’ll meet your fate now,_ Isitu snarled back. _It is what you’ve always wanted, after all._

A thousand-headed fury flew towards Chakotay, the Shabma’s minds channelled through Isitu’s into a spear of pure malevolence. He instinctively raised his hands to his head in a vain attempt to protect himself. He could see and feel each individual Shabma, their faces contorted by rage, their claw-like hands ready to shred his mind into millions of pieces. The sounds they made, their screams and cries echoed and tossed him about in the chaos.

And then stillness. The howling still surging around but silenced, as if an invisible forcefield had risen to shield him from the baying faces. He lifted his head, but nothing had changed on the bridge. It was all happening inside his own mind.

 _Fly, Chakotay. Fly away._ Kathryn was standing in front of him in the eye of the storm, dressed in her black and red uniform and sporting a crooked smile. Unharmed. Untouched. And with hell in her eyes.

He rose to his feet, and her hand found his chest. _Leave this place and_ _save yourself,_ she said in his head with his voice, her lips not moving, and how he longed to hear her instead. _I’ll lead Isitu away from you. There’s nothing awaiting you here but destruction._

“Wherever you go, I’ll follow, Kathryn. Into death if needs be _._ ”

 _You will find what you are seeking, then_ , Isitu mouthed in the storm roaring around them.

Kathryn’s silhouette shimmered. The uniform jacket faded, exposing a torn undershirt and red marks around her neck. A deep gash on her cheek and lip appeared. Metal flashed against Chakotay’s chest.

His fingers grasped the edge of Celes’ console, but a jolt jostled him aside. A physical blow this time, then more, and Kathryn vanished from his mind.

By the time he righted himself and finally accessed the console, strykers surrounded _Voyager_ , a ruthless swarm attacking from all sides, the lead ship undetectable among the throng. Kathryn’s life signs disappeared from the sensor array despite his frantic effort at getting a lock.

More hits shook the ship. “We are sitting ducks!” Tom was back at his station, his hands a blur over the helm.

Bending over Celes, Chakotay shook her. “Recalibrate the scan and find which ship the captain is on. Don’t let it out of sensor range.”

The woman stood on unsteady legs. “Yes, Captain.”

Chakotay returned to his seat and raised the shields. “Tom, fly straight at the mother ship. Let’s see if they want to risk shooting at it while they try and catch us.”

* * *

_Voyager_ vanished from the screen, and Janeway faced Isitu, hatred the only thing holding her up.

The Shabma leader smirked and opened his mind to her, so sure she would drown in its evil morass.

_We are the Shabma. Watch where we came from. See who we have become._

An entire species fleeing an ancient foe whose name they had long forgotten, a multitude of ships entering the void out of utter desperation, in search of a refuge but finding only emptiness and desolation. Stumbling out a generation later, their fleet slashed by two-thirds, their supplies long exhausted, the living devouring the dead, their minds driven mad by the endless night.

_The Desolation purified us. Expunged our weaknesses. Showed us that the only way to endure is to accept murru._

The survivors fell into the dim and concealed space between the abyss and what soon became an impenetrable barrier. Starved, trapped, the Shabma subsisted, founding a flying city off the remains of their fleet at first, then from hapless ships crossing their space. Building a society out of archaic beliefs turned inwards and ruthless. A hate of the living, of life itself, of its needs for light, for freedom, for resources, all things denied to them.

_We live from what the Desolation gives us. We are strong. We are many._

Janeway spat at him. “You’ve made this place into evil to hide your cruelty and hatred. You are neither alive nor dead. You are terrified of what you call the Desolation and even more of what lies on the other side of the asteroid field.”

The spittle ran along his scars, and Isitu made no move to wipe it off. _I know you, Janeway. I’ve delved through your thoughts._ _You tasted the madness which lurks in the Desolation, pulling and tugging at one’s mind until all that is left is to welcome death. Chakotay knew your wish to die, and that’s why he left you there. And he’ll abandon you again, like all those who worship life do._

His words, spoken in her voice inside her mind, hit hard. It had been her thinking those words at one time, but not anymore, and she pushed against them, against Isitu, against the darkness within him. “I’m done with death. I’m done with righteous cowards, and I’m done with you.”

She raised her metal hand to strike him, but Isitu forcefully shoved her back, her strained shoulder taking the full brunt of her fall against the console. Hard fingers gripped the back of her neck, and he repeatedly slammed her face against the top panel until she stopped struggling, dazed and blood running into her eyes. Then, the man pushed his body against hers, pinning her down and trapping her artificial hand against the instrument panel.

_We wield death to all who dare rise against us. Death for you, for your crew, for your Chakotay. You called them, and they’ll die because of you._

Isitu’s thoughts rammed into her, stripping away all her barriers and any hope she would survive the ordeal. She was too weak, her mind too feeble now to protect herself. “You can kill me,” she whispered, her cheekbone scraping against the console. “You can torture me, but you cannot stop life. It will find you one day, and erase you without mercy.”

_Life is filth, worthless. While my people deal with your ship, I’ll cleanse you myself. And when I’m finished with you, you’ll regret the day the Desolation spat you out._

Isitu buried himself inside her mind, battering down all obstacles. He sank into her skull, shoving aside her thoughts and any trace of who she’d been before he’d grabbed her off the shuttle and made her his pawn to avenge his people.

All traces save for one small corner of her mind, one hidden kernel of hope she hid at the cost of her surrender. Chakotay had said he would follow her, and she was going to show him the only escape route.

Her steel fingers twitched, then grabbed the helm control biting into her stomach and pushed it sideways. Breaking formation, the stryker sped up towards the darkness below.

 _What are you doing?_ Isitu screamed. He pulled her away from the console, but she forced her metal fingers into the panel and ripped it open, destroying the navigation controls. The Desolation slowly spread across the viewscreen like a gaping maw. “I am returning you to where you came from, Isitu. Welcome back to hell.”

Isitu raged against her, and the ship tumbled ever faster towards the everlasting night, and her mind was no more.

* * *

The hits kept coming, hammering _Voyager_ as it flew close to the mother ship. It careered on its side to slide between two large columns dwarfing the Federation ship. So narrow was the gap, Chakotay thought he’d felt _Voyager_ ’s underside scrape against the Shabma ship’s hull. A few explosions behind confirmed that a handful of fighters had met their end against their own edifice. But it wasn’t enough.

“Celes! Scan!”

“Nothing, Captain. The mother ship itself is blocking our scans. It’s too massive.”

“Tom, take us out.”

“They are hundreds of them out there,” Tom said while obeying his captain’s orders. _Voyager_ soon found itself in open space again. “We won’t be able to outrun them,” the pilot added.

“I have no intention of running away. On my order, slow to half impulse.”

“Captain?” Tom turned around in his chair, his eyes wide.

“You’ve heard me, Lieutenant. Now.”

Tom returned his attention to his console. A few seconds passed, the Shabma pursuers coming nearer, their claw-like thoughts reaching out to all on board.

Chakotay stood, holding to the arm of his chair as another volley of hits threatened to topple him.

“Shields at sixty per cent,” said Troi at Tactical.

A few more blows and _Voyager_ would be in danger of losing its only protection against their pursuers.

“Still nothing,” Celes said, her voice strained. “The fighters are so densely packed behind us, they’re obstructing the sensor beams. I can’t scan past two thousand kilometres.”

“How many photon torpedoes have we got left?” Chakotay asked.

Celes checked. “Twelve. But...”

“You’ve said yourself there are too many of them, so let’s thin them out. I’ll show them how we make war in the Delta quadrant.”

“Sir?”

Chakotay ignored the look his second-in-command gave to Troi, who was sitting very straight in her chair. He knew the woman could feel his anger and rage in addition to the Shabma’s, but he wasn’t going to run again. Not if there was a chance Kathryn was still alive. Because he would have felt her death, he was certain of that. And she couldn’t be dead. Not when he was so close. Not after spending years coming back for her. She had to be alive. Somewhere among this throng of fighters.

“Prepare two forward torpedoes, and two each port-side and starboard. One hundred kilometres range. Standby to launch on my order.” Chakotay stood behind the pilot.

“The shields will take a beating at that distance,” Celes said, busy entering the new instructions in the console.

“The shields will have to hold. Tom, turn us around, full impulse.”

“Aye, sir. Full impulse.”

The far-away asteroid field, their only way out of Shabma space, moved off screen, replaced by the dark mass of the pack in pursuit, the enemy ships tussling with each other for a clear hit on their target. Their sheer number worked against them as only a few could fire at will without hitting another fighter.

 _Voyager_ hurled itself at the enemy wave rising across its bow, the full force of the pilots’ hateful and vengeful thoughts lunging at the Federation crew. The closest ships were taken by surprise and they tore past without letting out a single shot. Chakotay let them go. Kathryn wasn’t among them.

Panic soon rose among the Shabma as _Voyager_ ploughed through the mass of fighters without slowing. Chakotay didn’t flinch as ships of all sizes darted away in a desperate attempt to avoid colliding with _Voyager_. Instead, they flew straight into their neighbours in an ever-growing series of random explosions. But there were still too many of them, a mob of frenzied vultures coming about and surrounding the ship.

“Celes?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“Launch torpedoes, and brace yourselves.”

The weapons sped away, their trails leading straight within the enemy. Six massive explosions ripped through the Shabma fleet. Six balls of fire, each engulfing dozens of ships and leaving only flying debris behind. Chakotay watched the carnage with cold satisfaction even as alarms rang all over the bridge. Battered and shaken, _Voyager_ sped through the opening it had created, the void growing across its screen.

Celes Celes shook her head. “Still nothing.”

Another pass and there’d be no torpedoes left. But there wouldn’t be too many Shabma alive either. If Kathryn was lost to him, he might as well annihilate them and their ships. Rid this galaxy of their merciless existence. “Tom, reverse cours—"

“Captain, I’ve got a signal. Very faint. And…”

“And what?” Chakotay whirled around to face Celes.

“It’s speeding away.” Celes frantically worked at the console. “The ship the captain’s on… it’s speeding away. Warp six.” She lifted her eyes. “Straight into the void.”

“Get a transporter lock on her.”

“There’s too much interference. The thoron emissions from the fighters are distorting sub-space.”

“Send all the data you’ve got to the helm and prepare for an emergency beam out.” Chakotay sat back in his command chair. “Tom, go after that ship.”

“What about the fighters behind us?” Tom asked, changing _Voyager_ ’s course.

Chakotay settled in his chair and felt a glimmer of hope. “They’ll never dare enter the void. Captain Janeway is leading us out of here. Follow her.”

**⁂**

“I’ve got her!"

"Lock on her vital signs, and transport her directly to sickbay.”

“Lock established. Transport in process.”

“Sickbay, here. I’ve got the captain. She is alive.”

**⁂**

The next shift came, and Chakotay still didn’t move from the command chair. He didn’t know why he hadn't rushed to the transporter room after Celes’ triumphant shout ‘I’ve got her’. Why he’d remained on the bridge while the EMH told him the captain was unconscious and her condition critical. Why he had not accompanied Troi when the Doctor had called for her. He’d felt the heavy gaze of the officers darting across the bridge when they thought he wasn’t looking.

 _You will pay for what you’ve done, Chakotay of_ Voyager _!_

He looked back at the screen.

The void.

Empty. Lightless. Silent.

Even _Voyager_ ’s engine noises were muted, the darkness heavy against his skin, swaddling his limbs and squeezing his chest.

_You denied what was ordained for you. You fled your fate once more._

He remained in his seat. The few daring Shabma pilots who had followed _Voyager_ into the void had been easy to despatch. Isitu, roaring out curses after curses, had been left to his own destiny, driven into madness by the night now engulfing him. Chakotay could hear him no longer, but his last intelligible words still echoed in his mind.

Sometime during the beta shift, news of Kathryn’s status changed to critical but stable. The Doctor didn’t need him standing in the middle of sickbay. She was in good hands. She was back on _Voyager_ , where she belonged.

_Janeway didn’t achieve murru. She said she wanted to live, but death is patient._

_Voyager_ skimmed through the void at warp eight. Scans of the space beyond came back negative. The Shabma fleet was nowhere to be seen, and their mother ship had fallen out of sensor range. At the end of the gamma shift, Chakotay summoned Tom back to the bridge, and _Voyager_ left the void. A last scan, and they crossed through the tumbling belt of rocks into normal space at last. New stars lit the way, and Chakotay ordered a course for home, as Janeway had done a long time ago.

They were free. Their mission accomplished. Captain Janeway back among her people. Kathryn back to him.

_You will both pay._

Leaving the helm to the gamma shift pilot, Tom forced Chakotay out the captain’s chair and walked with him to sickbay. They entered the room steeped in darkness. A single bed was occupied, Troi sitting close to it and hiding its occupant.

_You yearn for her to live._

“Captain,” Troi said with a pained smile. She vacated the chair and went to talk to Paris, leaving him alone with Kathryn.

He slowly approached the bed, his eyes seeing nothing else but her. Her skin was as pale as the sickbay walls, her hair, dirty and matted, much longer than he remembered and spread like a shroud around her head and shoulders. Her chest gently rose and ebbed under the sheet raised to her neck, the medical arch above making a reassuring noise. Each year of separation had carved the small crow’s feet at the corner of her eyes a little deeper. But apart from a reddish tinge to her cheek, she looked as if she was resting. As if she’d just come back from an away mission which had not quite turned out the way it should have.

He took her hand from underneath the sheet. It was cold and limp, but he could feel a steady pulse. She was alive. She was safe. She was back. Soon she would wake up, smile, and gently berate him for returning to get her.

 _Beware what you wish for, Chakotay of_ Voyager _._

Her eyes opened, unblinking. Grey as a rain-laden sky. His heart beating, he bent over to welcome her back to the land of the living, but he saw nothing behind their vacant look. He had snatched her from the void only to find it dwelling deep within her mind.

_There are worse fates than being dead._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from ‘Le Cid’, Corneille, 1636. _Go, run, fly and avenge us._


	14. La Belle au Bois Dormant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously:  
> Beware what you wish for, Chakotay of _Voyager_.  
>  _Her eyes opened, unblinking. Grey as a rain-laden sky. His heart beating, he bent over to welcome her back to the land of the living, but he saw nothing behind their vacant look. He had snatched her from the void only to find it dwelling deep within her mind._  
>  There are worse fates than being dead.

Some species Deanna couldn’t sense. The Ferengi, the Breen. She always knew when individuals of those races were close by, but their emotions were not readily accessible. Instead, she had to rely on other clues: body language, tone of voice, words said and more so those left unsaid.

Then, there were the Vulcans whose minds were slick on the outside and teeming with emotions on the inside, like a soft cherry hidden within a hard chocolate shell. It gave her a headache being in the same room as a Vulcan for too long.

She had met some humans who displayed the same very level-headed exterior, many of them high-ranking Starfleet officers. Outwardly, nothing fazed them, and they made excellent leaders. Captain Picard was one of them, but what made him great was his capacity to show his emotions when it mattered. Very few individuals liked to work under a Data-like officer.

She leaned against the Doctor’s office door, observing the scene before her. Her empath sensitivity had returned after _Voyager_ ’s fight with the Shabma, and she savoured being able to read people’s emotions again. The nuances, the bright flashes soon extinguished, the whispers of more, the persistent undertones. For her to dwell in and decipher, so she could help those people.

Because, now more than ever, _Voyager_ ’s crew needed her help.

The EMH hovered near the captain, his holographic mind a blank, but it was never difficult to know what he was feeling, if that was the right word to use with a hologram. She had become rather fond of him and his cantankerous ways. He was dedicated to his patients to a fault, even if his commitment could squarely be laid at the feet of his programming.

She’d quickly realised that, like Data, he was so much more than the sum of his sub-routines. But while Data was upfront with what he saw as weaknesses, painfully so at times, the Doctor rarely allowed her to forget his many achievements. And, as much as it pained her to admit, the EMH’s expertise was better suited to the situation facing them. She watched him patiently cater for his sole patient sitting on a biobed, the neuro-cortical monitor behind her left ear blinking ever so slowly.

Chakotay was a different matter. Without judging his actions, she’d always thought that throwing away a promising Starfleet career to join the Maquis was a classic demonstration of his personality. Passionate. Strong-willed. Decisive once he had chosen a path.

Not unlike Will. But Will often made light of the moment to bring people to his point of view, or use his not-insignificant charm on them when needed. Instead, Chakotay’s depth of feeling for the cause he had embraced, be it going to the Maquis or leading _Voyager_ ’s crew back and forth across the Delta quadrant, was the reason people followed him. And the depth of his feelings for the woman he now faced was terrifying. How had Janeway resisted that well of devotion for so long? There was no other person for him but the woman staring at nothing and swathed by darkness.

Closing her eyes, Deanna let Chakotay’s emotions flood her mind. Here was a man of deep passions, who, by pure will power, had learned to control them, all too aware of where they could lead him. Over the past few days however, ever since Janeway had been back, that control had slipped, and his mind threatened to sweep Deanna into its maelstrom, a multitude of emotions seething and churning without rest.

Helplessness.

Hurt.

Guilt.

Dread.

Repressing a shiver, Deanna opened her eyes. Kathryn Janeway’s silhouette re-appeared in the dimness of the sickbay. The former captain sat silent on a biobed, her mechanical hand hidden within a long sleeve, hair gathered in a pony tail. Her finely etched profile was devoid of any expressions, her eyes vacant. Her body was well on its way to complete recovery, but it was with an absent mind. A shell of a human being, not the vibrant woman Deanna had been told so much about.

Janeway was as intangible to her as a piece of furniture.

Chakotay took the chair close to the biobed, and Deanna moved to the sickbay office, unwilling to intrude on what he was telling Janeway. He came to see her before and after his shifts, recounting the day, telling her about the status of the stores, Neelix’ half-hearted attempts at improving the mess hall fare, B’Elanna Torres’ latest coaxing of the warp engine, the ship tearing through the Delta quadrant to get back home. There was no banter to report because the mood on the ship was at an all-time low. _Voyager_ might have gotten its former captain back, but it was unclear if Janeway even knew where she was, after having escaped sure death.

As in all previous visits, Janeway didn’t acknowledge Chakotay's presence. He reached out as if to hold her hand, but hesitated and retreated without touching her. His shoulders hunched, he stood and came into the EMH’s office.

“It’s like she is not here at all. Like she’s still…there.” Chakotay waved towards _Voyager_ ’s stern, and a stab of loathing hit Deanna. He was thinking about the Shabma. “There must be something you can do, Doctor. It's been a week now.”

“Do I need to remind you of her chronic ill-health and the physical injuries I had to take care first?” Seemingly encouraged by Chakotay’s silence, the EMH listed a broken cheekbone, muscle ruptures and torn ligaments in the left arm as well as major scarring around the amputated hand, anaemia, acute malnutrition, and a variety of infections coming with long medical words the captain had obviously no knowledge of and even less interest in.

Chakotay lifted his hand to stop the EMH’s litany. “You’ve done your best, but what about her mind? How long before she’s back to her self?”

“I don’t know,” the EMH answered more gently, his frown deepening. “Captain Janeway displays no visible sign of brain disease or injury, but her synaptic patterns show minimal activity. There is little response to any external stimuli, except for a strong physiological aversion to light.”

“But she’s breathing by herself, sitting by herself. Surely, she must have thoughts, she must sense something, have feelings.”

“I can’t explain it, Captain. The mind of sentient beings still remains a mystery in the twenty-fourth century.”

“Counsellor?” Chakotay begged.

“There's only so much we can do at this stage. The captain’s physical state is stable for now, thanks to the Doctor’s efforts, but healing her mind will take time. It’s too early to tell.”

If her condition could be cured at all.

The EMH was no less frustrated than Chakotay. “Once we get in touch with Starfleet, I'll contact neurologist experts and seek their advice. For now, I’ll continue to monitor her physical health and ensure the stump of her—”

Chakotay turned around, the strain he was under showing in the dark circles under the eyes and the tight jaw. “Why didn’t you remove that…thing while she was under sedation? Can’t you regrow her own hand?”

“I do share your dislike for that crude approximation of a working limb, but the control system of the device has fully integrated itself into the captain’s neuronic pathways. If I was to do as you suggest, she could go into neural shock.”

“Maybe that’s what’s needed. Maybe a shock would help her wake up.”

Deanna felt the disgust and anger emanating from Chakotay, stirred this time by what Janeway’s artificial hand represented in Chakotay’s mind: all the evil she had suffered for much too long. He yearned for the woman he remembered to be back, not what she had become since.

The EMH shook his head. “I am not ready to take that risk. And there’s also the issue of consent.”

“What?” Chakotay was radiating rage like Worf on the war path. He drew to his full height, looking ready to smite the EMH. “Consent? Do you really think Kathryn wanted her hand amputated while she was still conscious, and this monstrosity wedged in its place? I felt what she felt then. Don’t ask me how, but I did. She was in agony, and they didn’t stop.” He slammed the table, and leaned heavily on it, his whole body shaking with rage.

Deanna ignored him, her attention drawn to something else altogether.

Rising panic. Overwhelming and unadulterated fear.

She turned towards the only person who could be responsible for such jarring emotions. Janeway had not moved, her eyes still looking at nothingness, but her artificial hand shuddered in her lap, as if by its own accord.

“Nevertheless,” the EMH droned from behind Deanna. “It would be a grave breach of her personal rights to take away such a device without her consent.”

“I’ve heard enough.” Chakotay strode out of sickbay, passing by Janeway’s biobed on his way out, and almost running into the door when it didn’t open fast enough.

The hand stilled, and the feeling of panic vanished, as if a door had also slammed inside Janeway’s mind, her emotions inaccessible once again.

**⁂**

~ _Troi to the Captain. May I come and talk to you?_ ~

Chakotay lifted his eyes from the requisition form he had re-read three times now. He had left the bridge in Tom’s capable hands to catch up on overdue reports, but his mind wasn’t with it. His outburst of anger the day before had left him drained and lost, and ashamed of himself. The Doctor and the counsellor were doing their best, and his bad temper was hardly helping.

Years of thinking Kathryn dead, then a glimmer of hope, a chance to save her, a brave crew behind him, a message from beyond distances. A battle with evil which had almost cost them their lives. Searching for Kathryn, finding her, plucking her from sure death.

Only to see emptiness each time he looked into her eyes, and feel his heart stop. She was back where she belonged, but as Isitu had taunted him, there was such a thing as a fate worse than death.

~ _Captain?_ ~

“My apologies, Counsellor. Please, do come in.”

Troi entered the room, PADD in her hand and spring in her steps. “I think I might have an insight into Captain Janeway’s condition. I’d like you to see this.”

“Is Kathryn showing signs of waking up?”

“No. The captain is still unresponsive to normal stimuli,”—Troi set up the PADD on his desk—“but I have reasons to believe that she might respond to a display of powerful emotions directed at her. I’ve asked Lieutenant Torres to help us ascertain if this is the case.”

“B’Elanna? Why did you ask her? Why not me?” Chakotay frowned, confused, his pulse rising. “She agreed to something I wouldn’t have approved? Is that what you are saying? What are you doing to Kathryn?” He moved from behind the desk, intent on getting to sickbay whatever the obstacles in his way, forgetting his pledge to listen to Troi.

Deanna put her hand on his arm, showing no sign his larger bulk and obvious irritation intimidated her. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think it would help Captain Janeway. Trust me.”

There was determination behind those dark eyes. And while he would have few qualms in overriding the Doctor, he found himself stopped by the only thing that would prevent him from pushing the counsellor aside: that, maybe, Troi had found a way to help Kathryn.

He pushed his hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he added with a small smile. “Tell me what you’ve found.”

Troi strode past him and turned on the screen of the desk terminal. “Yesterday, as you were leaving sickbay, I felt Captain Janeway react to your…anger, but her mind closed again before I could make sense of what had happened. I talked to the Doctor, and we decided to test my hypothesis that the captain does in fact respond to highly focused emotional stimuli.”

Chakotay sat back and watched the screen, intrigued despite himself.

B’Elanna was pacing the EMH’s office, building up a storm. He’d seen her in that mood many times, especially lately. He should talk to her. Talk to his crew. They were hurting too. He’d been too obsessed by Kathryn’s plight to think of them. Spending hours in sickbay by her bedside every day while also working his normal one-and-half shift left little time for anything else, but that was hardly an excuse.

“Now, remember,” Deanna said in a reassuring but firm voice. “Whatever happens, the captain won’t be hurt. B’Elanna is under strict instructions, and the Doctor is ready to intervene if the captain’s vital signs reach dangerous levels. He believes there won’t be any physical consequences.”

Her whole body tense and ready for a fight, B’Elanna strode towards Kathryn sitting on the biobed. “What do you have to say for yourself, Captain?”

She paced the length of the biobed, keeping her distance from her target. Kathryn seemed to recoil ever so slightly, but Chakotay couldn’t be certain. A determined Torres was certainly a sight to behold.

“First you hide in your quarters for weeks on end while _Voyager_ is stuck in the void, as if we don’t exist.” B’Elanna threw her arms in the air, her tone rising. “We never see you. You don’t come to the mess hall anymore. You avoid the bridge. And then…” The irate woman came closer to Janeway who sat as if frozen, the cortical monitor showing no change, her eyes staring at the wall. “Then you leave _Voyager_ because you think a quicker passage is worth more than your life.”

Kathryn blinked slowly, but was it only a normal reflex or a reaction to B’Elanna’s rising outrage?

Trembling with pent-up anger, B’Elanna moved a foot closer again and faced the woman. “Do you realise what that decision did to us? The guilt we’ve carried for so long to have left you there? You might have saved us from two years of losing our minds, but you condemned us all at the same time.”

Chakotay sat back, stunned. He’d wanted to think the blame at leaving Kathryn behind had been his alone to bear. The constant anger at what he had allowed her to do, the shame for not having stepped in, and then for judging her selfish and reckless and all the names he had called her in the depths of his nightmares. “I knew,” he said. “I knew how much everyone was hurting too, and I did nothing to ease their pain.”

Troi’s hand squeezed his arm. “They understood. And you did ease their pain by seeking Captain Janeway and allowing them to put things right.” She turned back to the screen. “Watch the captain closely. The signs are very subtle.”

“I don’t see anything,” Chakotay said.

The counsellor pointed to Kathryn’s artificial hand. It was trembling, more alive than the seemingly mindless body it was attached to, but he couldn’t see the positive in that.

B’Elanna continued her tirade. “And what about Chakotay? Did you ever think of him? The guy worships you. He would kiss the ground you walk on and all you did was push him into your command chair in your haste to vanish into the void.”

Chakotay glanced at Troi, but the woman was watching the screen, so he focused back on Kathryn, her hand flexing and clenching in turn.

“See,” Troi said, smiling. “The captain is responding, and now I can definitely sense something from her. It’s faint, but it’s there.”

He could too. A pounding in his head, getting louder by the second. Fury underneath deep waters, a tsunami ready to unleash its power once it reached shallow waters. “You’ve got to stop B'Elanna. It’s too dangerous.” He half-stood, fearful of what they had unleashed.

Wincing, Troi tilted her head as if trying to get rid of a sudden headache. “B’Elanna is in control and won’t hurt the captain. That’s why I asked her.”

It wasn’t Kathryn Chakotay was worried about, but was he projecting his own fears onto the situation enfolding in front of him? Was this why Troi didn’t trust him to do what B’Elanna was doing now? His alarm soared when B’Elanna leaned over and thrust her face at Kathryn.

“You know what you’ve done, don’t you? You’ve killed him again. You’ve stabbed him in the heart and turned the knife—”

It all happened too quickly. A blur on the screen. Torres choking, her face fast turning red, unable to tear herself away from the hard metal fingers tightening around her throat.

**⁂**

After thanking B’Elanna who had mercifully recovered from her ordeal with no ill effect, Chakotay walked to Kathryn’s bedside. The Doctor had sedated her, but the monitor was now blinking faster, a sign that Kathryn’s mind was back, Troi assured him as he sank into a chair.

“Tell me again what happened, Counsellor.”

Troi took the other chair. “Until Captain Janeway tells us herself, it’s only a hypothesis on my part, but I think the captain resisted the Shabma’s mental attacks by raising a shield around her thoughts, and that’s how she was able to fend off Isitu’s final assault. I suspect that he tried to destroy her mind, and the only way she could survive was to cut herself off from everything and everyone. Retreat into herself and wait.”

Chakotay bowed his head, mortified at his behaviour. “And I went to her side every day, full of rage at the Shabma. Isitu warned me, but I didn't understand I would be the cause of it. Kathryn sensed my anger, and she reacted by staying hidden.”

Deanna nodded. “Yes, but she’s opened the door now. With help, she’ll open it a little wider every day. There’ll be small steps at first, but she can only get better.”

“What next, then?”

“The Doctor wants to organise physical activities for the captain. They will help make her mind more aware of her surroundings, starting with kinaesthetic sensations coming from her own body.”

Chakotay frowned, but said nothing.

“She also needs emotional stimulation. She needs to find a balance between attacking and retreating,” Troi added.

“You’ll be perfect with that,” Chakotay said, somewhat disappointed. He didn’t want to repeat what he had put Kathryn through.

Troi smiled gently. “She doesn’t know me. She won’t trust me the way she trusts you. You are the best person to gauge what she is feeling. You knew B’Elanna was in danger before I realised what was going on.”

“Even after what I’ve put her through?”

“She was reacting on instinct, like a cornered animal. I can show you some techniques which will help relax your mind, so she relaxes too.”

“And the Doctor will monitor her?”

“Of course. I’ll also be able to sense her anywhere on the ship. Believe me, Captain Janeway has a very powerful mind once awakened.” Troi lifted her head. “She needs you more than ever, Captain. And I am not divulging a secret that you need her too. You’ll make it through together.”

⁂

“Kathryn, I know you can do it. Come on. We did this yesterday, remember?”

He took her right hand in his and moved backwards down the ramp, his eyes on her. The swimming pool was only a few metres in diameter and only deep enough to reach up to his abdomen.

Once they reached the flat bottom, they slowly walked in circles through the warm water. Chakotay was at her side, his left hand in the small of her back. Kathryn followed his lead tentatively.

“Seven and Tom are on the lookout for a planet where we could all get some well-deserved shore leave. I’ve asked them for somewhere warm, with a sandy beach and sunshine.”

As usual, she remained silent, but he took no offence. Her fingers were lightly clasping his. A welcome contrast to only a couple of days ago.

“We should get to the first communication buoy soon, so we can contact Starfleet. I am eager to know what’s happening with the _Khonsu_ and the other half of our crew, and tell them you are back on _Voyager_. They should be home anytime now.”

Each day, he recounted to Kathryn more of what had happened on _Voyager_ since she’d left the ship, leaving out what Starfleet had in mind for their crew once within reach of the Alpha quadrant.

The music playing gently in the background changed to a more rapid tempo. “Now for some exercises.” He moved behind her and nestled his body against her back. Her balance was not the best, as if she was still stumbling between two ships, the dark one they’d left behind, and _Voyager_ , too bright in contrast maybe to fully trust yet.

“Extend your arms.” He took her elbows and raised them to the level of her shoulders, before doing the same to her lower arms, careful to hide his distaste of the cold metal under his left hand. Looking after her wasn’t a chore. Every day, she was getting better, if slowly, haltingly. Small steps in the right direction.

He refused to ask himself if she would ever fully return to who she was. Troi was optimistic, and it was enough for him.

“Imagine you are _Voyager_ ,” he said, more to himself than expecting her to respond or react in any way. “The nacelles are up, and you are flying through the stars. Flying towards home.”

To his surprise, he heard her voice, raspy and weak, but dear to him all the same. A voice he hadn't heard for so long it made him stumble. “ _Voyager_ ,” she said. Then she turned around in his arms, her eyes searching his as if wanting confirmation. “I’m on _Voyager_? I’m home?”

He couldn’t help himself, and he gathered her in his arms, lifting her off the floor. “Yes, Kathryn. You are on _Voyager_. You’re home.” Then, realising what he was doing, he carefully lowered her to her feet.

She raised her good hand and brushed his cheek. “Chakotay,” she said, her forehead creasing. “You returned for me?”

“I did,” he said, a wide smile spreading on his face. “And I found you. And now, you’ve come back to me.”

Her lips trembled even as she smiled, and he wasn’t far from crying himself as he held her tight against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from _La Belle au Bois Dormant_ ( _Sleeping Beauty_ ), a French opera first performed in 1825 and based on Charles Perrault’s tale of the same name (1697).


	15. Beware of the Thoughts that Linger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously:  
>  _She raised her good hand and brushed his cheek. “Chakotay,” she said, her forehead creasing. “You returned for me?”  
>  “I did,” he said, a wide smile spreading on his face. “And I found you. And now, you’ve come back to me.”  
> Her lips trembled even as she smiled, and he wasn’t far from crying himself as he held her tight against him._

> _Watch out now, take care  
>  Beware of the thoughts that linger  
> Winding up inside your head  
> The hopelessness around you  
> In the dead of night_  
>   
> ‘Beware of Darkness’, All Things Must Pass (1970), George Harrison

“So, I can leave sickbay.”

Kathryn swung her legs over the side of the biobed. It was more a statement than a question. She longed for some privacy and solitude, although the irony of seeking the latter following years of inhabiting a lone shuttle wasn’t lost on her, even if most of those had been spent in stasis.

“Didn’t you like my rendition of _La Belle Au Bois Dormant_?” the EMH uttered, waiving the tricorder around her head. “You did ask for some music to help you sleep.”

“And it’s time for me to find another place to do just that.”

Normal sleep was a luxury she hadn’t been able to achieve so far. Her mind was still on the alert, never dozing for more than a couple of hours at a time and not left to wander into territory she had no intention of facing.

“Your condition has much improved over the past week,” the EMH continued, his eyes fixed on the tricorder, “especially considering you were not able to avail yourself of my proficient care for the past four years.”

She started to roll her eyes before a splitting pain behind her eyeballs made her reconsider. Dropping his haughty tone, the EMH took pity on her and put a hypospray to her neck. “You will suffer from headaches for a while longer while your brain readjusts to normal-level stimuli. Which is why I would much prefer you stay here for at least another forty-eight hours.”

She would never survive two more days of bright lights, visitors and the typical busyness of _Voyager_ ’s medic. “I am sure you would prefer sickbay to be back to normal rather than invaded by well-wishers,” she said, hoping the change of subject would get her what she wanted. “I understand you’ve been doing important research in brain modulations.”

The Doctor’s eyebrow rose. “That is correct. Since Counsellor Troi’s arrival on board, I have been investigating some intriguing features of the telepathic mind. That research came in handy when we had to deal with the Shabma.”

She didn’t want to hear that name ever again. “And you’ve got your own quarters now, I’ve heard.”

At that, the Doctor gave her a beaming smile. “With the smaller crew, I thought I would ask the captain if I could have my own quarters. It has been a transformative experience, I am pleased to say. One I wouldn’t have believed before trying.”

“Then it’s settled,” Kathryn said, stepping off the biobed. The floor remained hard and solid under her feet. The feeling of dislocation, of being in two different places, here on _Voyager_ and elsewhere, in the void, alone and lost, was slowly fading away. Or so she hoped.

“I wouldn’t want to keep you away from your research and regular off-duty time for longer than necessary,” she added. “You can always monitor me remotely.”

The frown returned. “Well, that’s true. But there’s no going back to duty until I say so. Your recovery is not something to take for granted.”

She flinched. Recovery. How she hated that word. It implied she would be back to who and what she was before, and that was a lie. Not to mention that there were no duties for her to rush back to, no urgent tasks to oversee. No obligations. No responsibilities. The only thing she could do now was to thank those who had sacrificed so much for her, including the EMH.

“Thank you for your patience and faultless treatment,” she said, giving him an earnest smile. She could have sworn the Doctor blushed at the compliment.

He patted her hand shyly. “Strangely enough,” he said, “my sub-routines have been running much more smoothly since you’ve been back, Captain. It’s a most satisfying feeling.”

“Another observation to add to your research.” She strongly doubted that her mere presence was responsible. It was more than likely that being back on track to the Alpha quadrant had soothed the EMH’s holographic mind.

He put the tricorder away, his tone professional once again. “I’ll update your schedule of treatments and send it to you in the morning. The neuro-cortical monitor will alert me to any changes, but don’t hesitate to call on me if needed, Captain.”

Without acknowledging the EMH’s use of her out-of-date title, Kathryn walked out of sickbay thankful for the change of scenery. In the late hours of the beta shift, there was nobody around, and she had the turbolift to herself. “Deck three,” she said while entering the small space.

The walls closed around her, the low hum of the turbolift pressing against her thoughts. She leaned against the back of the lift, heart pounding and her throat tight. She was safe, she kept telling herself while panic rose in her mind. She was on _Voyager_ , not in a coffin with only death in sight. She was safe. She was safe.

Only pure will kept her from sliding down the wall and cowering in the corner. She hadn’t told the Doctor about her panic attacks. They would go away on their own accord, she told herself, breathing in and out slowly. She was back on _Voyager_. She was safe.

Again and again, she repeated the words until the turbolift mercifully stopped and the door opened. Her heart quietened at last, she pushed herself off the wall and walked the few metres to her quarters before entering her access code with a hand still shaking.

First and foremost, she needed a cup of coffee. Good thing she hadn’t asked the Doctor if she was allowed one or not.

The room was bathed in darkness, and she didn’t bother to call for the lights, savouring the feeling which had grown during her stay in sickbay but was so much deeper here, within the familiar walls of her quarters. After four years of never thinking she would one day be back, here she was. Home.

Until her shin bumped against a low table on her way to the replicator.

Something was wrong.

“Captain Janeway?”

Deanna Troi’s voice.

The heady smell of flowers.

The furniture no longer where it should be.

The woman’s silhouette in the bedroom door.

These weren’t her quarters anymore. She shouldn’t have come here.

“Captain?”

She shouldn’t have come back.

The floor slid from underneath her feet.

**⁂**

Holding the cup close, she breathed in the aroma of the hot chocolate that Troi had given her, murmurs of voices drifting in the background, the Doctor’s tone concerned, that of Troi firm. Then the doors swished opened as the EMH left her quarters…no, not hers. Not anymore.

Troi sat across the small table, hands crossed, watching and waiting. She had proven a caring woman and attentive listener in the few conversations they had had in sickbay. But although Troi had reassured her she couldn’t read her thoughts and even less influence them, Kathryn had kept her mental walls raised, refraining from talking about her ordeal in all but the more general terms. To her relief, Troi had not prodded.

Yet.

Kathryn’s good hand tightened around the cup. “I apologise for trespassing in your private quarters, Counsellor. I should have enquired first.” She was embarrassed for assuming her quarters would not have been reassigned after she’d left, especially when many of the residential decks were closed off because of the smaller crew. As soon as she finished the comforting drink, she would return to sickbay and in the morning, she’d put in a requisition for a bed somewhere.

“I am the one who was remiss in not thinking ahead,” Troi said. “Your recovery will happen much quicker if you are in a familiar environment. I’ll move out tonight.”

That word again. Recovery. Kathryn brushed it away. “Please, don’t. Not on my behalf. I am glad Chakot—, the captain, gave you these lodgings. I’m so sorry about the circumstances of your stay. It must be heart-wrenching to be separated from your husband.”

An unforeseen consequence of Chakotay’s decision to chase his captain to the edge of the void, but a debt nevertheless. One of many she owed.

The counsellor’s head dipped in acknowledgement. Then, she leaned forward as if to interrupt, but Janeway continued, keen to keep the conversation away from herself. “It’s very little reparation for the loss you’ve suffered, but I want to thank you for what you have done for _Voyager_ ’s crew. I had wished many times to have a counsellor on board when we found ourselves lost in the Delta quadrant. The EMH is a great advocate of your skills, and he is difficult to impress.”

“The Doctor is an exceptional individual, as is each of your crew members, Captain. It’s an honour to serve them to the best of my abilities.” Troi looked at her with an expression which showed she was in no way deceived by Kathryn’s tactic. “And, now that you have returned, I would like to extend my help to you.”

Kathryn put the cup down and walked to the viewport to contemplate the star-streaked night outside. The hand she could rely on found her hip, the gesture telling the outside world that she was in control.

It was a lie. She did need help. She knew that. But, truth be known, she was terrified of what would transpire if she delved too deeply into that part of herself she kept walled off and inaccessible. Most probably there would come a day when she would have no recourse but to bare herself. Expose her decisions one by one for the Starfleet counsellor to scrutinise, adjudicate and pass judgement.

But not so soon. Not tonight.

“ _Voyager_ is back on course, and the long journey ahead will weigh heavily on everyone’s minds once again. You’ll soon have plenty of people to comfort and advise instead of me.”

Troi had a small chortle. “Exactly what Captain Chakotay has been telling me since I’ve come onboard. It seems a prerogative of captains not to avail themselves of my services.”

Swallowing hard, Kathryn turned to face the gentle woman’s gaze. “I am no longer _Voyager_ ’s captain. Haven’t been for years. Even before leaving the ship, I’d already forsaken my duties.”

Troi kept her silence, which Kathryn took as tacit recognition of the truth. “I assume you’ve read the ship’s logs,” she went on doggedly, pacing the room. “You know I refused to leave my quarters once we entered the void. You know Chak—, the captain, came to visit me every day and took over my duties on the bridge. Kept the ship going while I hid away. That is not the mark of a well-oiled command team if one of them has to add his captain’s responsibilities to his own, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would say that he did what any first officer would do when their captain wants a break. He took on your burdens when you needed it the most.” Troi’s voice was calm and measured.

Kathryn scoffed. “It was much more than me needing a few days’ rest,” she said. “It wouldn’t be fair to ask the crew to follow a captain who breaks down at the drop of a hat.”

“Do not sell yourself short. You’ve led this ship in an exceptional manner, while the circumstances you found yourself in would have tried any Starfleet captain. In turn, you’ve suffered much, endured much and for very little personal reward.”

The counsellor was kind, caring, and so very wrong.

“I’m not the same person who boarded _Voyager_ so many years ago, with stars in my eyes. I am not the captain who faced Species 8472 and the Borg, and saved the day. That was the Janeway of before. Before the void. Before…this.” Kathryn brandished her artificial arm as if it was a blunted sword. “This is who I am now, who people will see when they look at me.”

“So, you’ve changed.” Troi said with a small shrug. “It would be surprising, and concerning, if you hadn't. But your principles haven’t. When I see that arm, I see a tangible proof of how far you will go to protect your crew. If you hadn’t helped _Voyager_ through the wormhole, the ship would have faced the Shabma after two long years in the void, its crew exhausted and its reserves run down. They wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

Kathryn stopped pacing. She had never thought of the event which had ended one nightmare only to start another quite in those terms. Then she shook her head. The counsellor’s logic was wide of the mark. “That’s beside the point. We didn’t know about…them at the time.” She couldn’t let herself utter the name of her tormentors. “I left the ship because I couldn’t see any other path out of the place I’d put myself in. I’m sure Captain Picard—”

“We are not here to talk about Captain Picard,” came the sharp retort, surprising her. “Are you saying that you wouldn’t do the same if a similar situation were to arise tomorrow?”

If she had thought Troi to be forgiving and understanding, she had been sorely mistaken. After all she had told the counsellor, the question was neither fair nor warranted, and she glared at the woman who remained unflustered. Thankfully, the chime of the door interrupted a response which might have been less than civil otherwise.

“Come in,” both women said.

Kathryn flinched at her faux pas.

“The EMH told me that you were here and—” Chakotay stopped just inside the door and looked at the two women in turn with confusion until realisation dawned on him. “I’m sorry, Captain. I should have told you I had given your quarters to Commander Troi.”

Troi stood, a smile on her face. “It was my mistake. I’ve already told Captain Janeway that she should have her former quarters back. Celes’ roommate moved out a couple of weeks ago, and I’m sure she’ll be pleased at my company. I just need a few minutes to gather some effects to take with me overnight. I’ll pick up the rest of my belongings tomorrow morning, if that’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course, Counsellor,” Chakotay said with dimples showing. “I appreciate the gesture.”

Annoyed at being so easily out-manoeuvred, Kathryn strode out of the room with a terse “thank you” thrown at the counsellor.

“Captain Janeway, I’ll send you an appointment to see me tomorrow in my office, 1400 hours,” Troi said as Chakotay pivoted on his heels and followed Kathryn outside.

“Would you mind joining me for dinner?” he asked after the door closed behind them. “I’ve just ended my shift and I am famished.”

Kathryn slowed down and turned around, already regretting her unwarranted surliness. For the first time since she’d returned to herself, she truly saw him, the impact of long years of heavy toil plain to see in the new worry lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes, the grey peppering his hair, his body not as substantial as she remembered. The man was exhausted, and there she was, shutting him down as if he was the one at fault. “I’d like that, thank you.”

“Good.” He smiled back, and they walked the few steps to his quarters side by side. “Why don’t you grab a shower?” he said when the door opened. “I know from experience that the sonic shower in sickbay isn’t very enjoyable. There’re clean towels under the basin, and you can replicate some shampoo and clothing.”

“Aren’t you short of dilithium after your battle with the Shabma?” This time she forced herself to say the sickening name. “It might take some time to find more.”

Taking his uniform jacket off, he waved her concerns off. “There’s a dilithium deposit only a few days’ travel from here at full warp speed. We befriended the people who hold that territory last time we crossed this region of space. Once we finish the repairs, we’ll have no problems replacing our reserves.”

The reserves they had used to return for her, no doubt, while making first contacts with species she’d never met and travelling through territories she’d never traversed.

Short on reasons to refuse the kind offer, she entered the bathroom and undressed, carefully avoiding looking at her gaunt and wan reflection of herself in the mirror.

Stepping in the shower, she let the warm water cascade over her. There was so much she’d missed, so much she didn’t know. Having spent the better part of four years in stasis, she’d been oblivious to the natural passage of time on _Voyager_. During his visits to sickbay, Chakotay had mostly kept the conversation to ship’s business and what had happened during her absence, the Doctor never far away as her mind still went to pieces at unexpected times. It was obvious Chakotay hadn’t been entirely forthcoming with information, which she’d put down to his workload and responsibilities.

The smell of the shampoo filled her senses and she savoured the feeling of moving her fingers through her heavy locks.

It had been such a welcome surprise when he had broken the news that they now had the means to contact Starfleet, if sporadically. She’d been even more elated when he’d told her about the prototype ship which had plucked many of _Voyager_ ’s crew and was now whizzing back to the Alpha quadrant. It had explained why Tuvok and Harry and Naomi had not come to see her. They would soon be reunited with their families and loved ones, the result of Riker and Chakotay’s hard work at seeing them safe at last.

Increasing the water pressure, she put her hands on the cubicle wall, the water jets like needles against her back.

And what of the other people who had taken _Voyager_ back to the void? She didn’t know how to thank them for what they’d done for her, for the hopes they’d abandoned. Two years of their lives spent searching for her, another two years of travel just to return to where they’d started the rescue journey, followed by decades more in the Delta quadrant after forsaking their only hope of a speedy homecoming.

She turned off the water and dried herself quickly before getting dressed.

These were debts which weighed heavily in her mind. Debts she didn’t know how to repay.

The thought only strengthened her resolve.

**⁂**

A towel over her shoulders, Kathryn sat at the table set for two, looking pensive. Chakotay busied himself with serving. It was the first time since that miracle day in the cargo bay that he had seen her out of sickbay. Busy with ship’s duties, or so he told himself, he had left the remainder of her recovery to the two medical experts. He’d visited her as often as he could, but the conversations had been stilted ever since her mind had emerged from wherever the Shabma had driven it. She obviously didn’t want to talk about her terrifying experiences, his words and presence not enough to help during the flashbacks which plagued her still.

He had been out of her life for four years, four long years when he had believed her dead, then hoped, and at times despaired of ever seeing her again. A long enough time for the person now sitting quietly across the table to have become a stranger, her bony hands reaching for the spoon, the soft light from above emphasising the dark shadows under her eyes when she brought a spoonful of the fragrant soup to her lips.

He turned his gaze away. Now that she was no longer in need of him, it felt wrong to stare.

They ate in silence, and he was glad to see her eat and savour the taste. “It’s mushroom soup. A favourite of mine. My mother used to make it for my father when he was in need of comfort food.”

A smile showed on her face. “It’s delicious. I can’t remember when I last ate a proper meal. Sickbay is no substitute for home-cooked meals or a good shower, and before sickbay…” She waved her spoon in the air, before giving up. “I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. This is heaven, thank you.”

His hand reached out before he could stop himself. “I’m sorry for what happened to you, Kathryn. For what I let happen to you. I should have stopped you when you took the shuttle. I should have been there for you well before that.”

She put her spoon down and her fingers drifted towards his. “Chakotay, it wasn’t your—”

“—I could have talked to Tuvok,” Chakotay persisted. “Even if you might not have listened to me, you would have heeded his concerns.”

“Short of a mutiny, I don’t think either of you would have succeeded,” she said with levity in her tone, their fingertips brushing.

“If that’s what it would have taken to stop you, I would have gladly faced a court martial.” He abandoned all pretence he was interested in dinner. Pushing his plate away, he leaned over the table and his fingers wrapped around hers. “I put your belongings in storage, and that was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It was so final, so utterly absolute. I felt so hopeless.”

“It was my decision to leave. You know that. My decision alone.”

Yeah. Troi had said something similar. “Are you sure? I accused you of forgetting the crew. Of forgetting about being the captain. I have regretted every single word ever since.”

She squeezed his fingers before straightening her back and breaking contact. “And you were right, but none of that matters anymore,” she said, neatly folding her napkin. “I’m back, and I can’t thank you enough for risking your life and jeopardising your future to come back for me.”

Frustrated by her dispassionate words and behaviour, he blurted, “For how long?” before catching himself. Once upon a time, he would have kept that thought well to himself, but it was a question which had troubled him since turning the ship around. Because there were only so many times he would search for her again if she was to embark on another suicide mission. Only so many occasions he would risk it all to rescue her. Only so many more years he would spend looking for her before giving up. Before he grew weary, his feelings drained by a never-ending quest to save her from herself.

She looked at him, frowning. “What do you mean, for how long?”

As much as his question was unjust and it was much too early of him to demand a response when she was still recovering from her ordeals, he needed an answer. Or at the very least, the beginning of an answer.

If only to start the conversation they never had had.

“How long before you go off again on a hopeless mission?” he asked. “How long before you disappear once more to save the crew?”

She dipped her head, bit her lower lip, then lifted her chin. “It won’t happen again. I am resigning my commission.”


	16. I’ll keep pushin’ on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously:  
>  _She dipped her head, bit her lower lip, then lifted her chin. “It won’t happen again. I am resigning my commission.”_

> _On Judgement Day_  
>  _I won't fade away  
>  l'll keep pushin' on_  
> 'Pushin'On', 2WEI Sequels (2018)

Chakotay sat back. “Don’t,” he said, at a loss for words, his mind racing through the implications of Kathryn’s statement.

He hadn't believed Troi when the counsellor had hinted a few days back that Kathryn would resign the captaincy. It wasn’t possible, he’d argued, still hoping for the Kathryn of before to return to him. Never, he’d said, pacing the ready room. The woman he knew never gave up no matter what was piled chin high in front of her. Troi had just looked at him with her usual calm and empathy before dropping the subject.

“I can’t do the job any more.” Kathryn lifted her left hand, as if it was damning evidence to present at her own trial. He was probably not far from the mark when he saw the look of profound distaste which came to her at the sight of the long steel fingers. It was more than the prosthesis though. It was the darkness fitting her as tight as a glove, the shadows surrounding her no matter the direction she took, the pain of every decision heavy on her soul.

Chakotay’s heart plunged deeper in his chest. He should have listened to Troi, prepared for this eventuality. He knew Kathryn better than the counsellor did, and yet his own emotions, his owns wants, had blinded him to good advice and a timely warning.

“Besides, you are _Voyager_ ’s captain with a long journey in front of you.” she added. “You don’t need me claiming back what I am not entitled to any longer.”

It was clear that she still felt lost and alone, doubly so now that she was safe at last. Surrounded by love and friendship and hope they would make it home, she had once again made the decision on her own, and probably had a long list of arguments already lined up against any reasons based on protocols or merits he would come up with. Because she knew him. She knew he would renounce the captaincy as soon as possible and give it back to her like an offering, with the approval and praise of the crew. And for her, that moment felt too much like judgement day approaching. Less than a hundred and twenty per cent just wasn’t good enough by her own standards.

The meal forgotten, he stood to contemplate the stars outside, racking his brain for a solution.

Any other circumstances and he would have gladly kept the job for as long as needed until she was ready to take over from him. However, there was no time for her to recover and heal. No time to yearn for those four pips and put them on her collar again when she felt strong enough. Kathryn Janeway had to go back under the yoke very soon. Too soon, but Nechayev wasn’t going to accept anybody but a Starfleet’s sanctioned captain at _Voyager_ ’s helm.

“I’ll make myself useful in engineering, or astrometrics. Anywhere you see fit to assign me,” Kathryn said to his back, and an edge of panic crept in her voice at his silence.

He turned around and watched her shift on her seat, head bowed, her long hair flowing over sharp hunched shoulders, the collarbones protruding through the dark undershirt, her good hand tightly held in a fist. Events and catastrophes had beaten her to within an inch of death, crushed her mind and will, ground them into a dark slurry from which she saw no way to rebuild herself. So, she was letting go of her previous life and of a future at the same time.

In the absence of a response, she carried on, haltingly. “The crew follows and respects you. The species you’ve made first contact with for light-years ahead trust you. Starfleet has been in communication with you for a long time now, and you were able to see half of the crew to safety. You've achieved so much while I was away. Replacing you would—”

“Have you written that letter yet?” he asked in a matter-of-fact tone as if he hadn’t noticed her growing distress.

Her head lifted sharply, her eyes conveying confusion. “I wanted to wait until I was in my quarters, although I’m not sure why now.” She gestured at his desk. “If you don’t mind, I’ll use your terminal and lodge the date, so there’s no doubt in anybody’s mind as to who is _Voyager_ ’s rightful captain.”

He had written such a letter a long time ago. A few words on a PADD, his finger punching the send button, and he’d severed his last moorings to Starfleet and his past life, leaving him free to sail into a new future.

But Kathryn’s decision wasn’t a choice she had made because another path beckoned, a better cause to fight for or a new direction in an already stellar career to look forward to. She was rejecting the only life she had built for herself. To be a Starfleet captain, to explore the great wonders of space and pave a path through the stars for others to follow.

Her glare re-appeared when he gave no sign he’d heard her. “Don’t, Chakotay. Don’t try to entice me back to the bridge under false pretences. I won’t be Voyager’s token captain while you work two positions simultaneously like you did before. You deserve better. This crew deserves better.”

He’d been correct. Starfleet protocols would not sway her. Above all, she would do whatever was necessary to see her crew home, and that mere fact was his only ammunition. That the same reason he had tossed thoughtlessly at her when she’d hidden in her quarters should be the one that would bring her back to the captain’s seat was bitingly callous. She was going to hate him for that, but there was no other way. Because he did want her safe. He did want her happy, although that seemed to be an impossible goal. For one obstacle she destroyed, a new one took its place until there were none standing, and she had to face herself, her own most formidable enemy.

“It’s not me or the crew on _Voyager_ I’m worried about,” he said. He needed to build his case brick by brick, leaving her nowhere to go than back in that command chair.

“What then?” she asked, annoyance lacing her voice.

“I’m concerned about our people on the _Khonsu_.”

Her scowl turned to surprise. “What of them? Barring an accident, they’ll soon arrive in the Alpha quadrant. It’s _Voyager_ that should be your priority. Only one thing counts, Chakotay, and that’s getting the remainder of your crew home.”

A chuckle almost escaped him. For somebody who didn’t want to be captain any longer, she sure seemed to be thinking an awful lot about her crew and ship. Not that he expected any less of her.

He sobered up. If her letter of resignation didn’t exist yet, there was still a chance for him to make her see reason. “Their situation is more complicated than what I’ve told you so far.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“I was going to wait until you were fully recovered”—that look of dislike again, although this time he wasn’t sure what she was reacting to—“but I might as well fill you in now.”

She got up from the table and slumped on the couch behind her. “Tell me. Tell me all.”

So, he told her about Nechayev, the woman’s enmity against the former Maquis because of the Dominion War, and her mistrust of the whole of _Voyager_ ’s crew by extension. The admiral’s orders to Riker to destroy the ship and make the journey home a nightmare for Starfleet and Maquis alike.

Kathryn put a hand to her mouth, her wide eyes conveying her ache.

He also told her of Riker’s promise to see _Voyager_ ’s crew right. Their adherence to discipline to counter long-held prejudices and mistrust among war-beaten veterans who resented anybody who had not fought by their side. The support they had been slowly gathering among friends and powerful allies back home.

Kathryn’s emotions flitted over her face. Dismay, anger, pride. He had gone through all those over the years. For her, it must have felt like an avalanche, and he rued the necessity to force her to bear it all when she wasn’t fully healed.

“I had no idea,” she said in a whisper. “I’d always suspected that Starfleet might not be welcoming to the former Maquis, but I had never imagined they would be that vindictive.”

He joined her on the couch, their elbows not quite touching. “It was the journey that kept you awake, rather than the destination. You thought we had time on our side.”

“Yes, decades, not years,” she said. “Did you suspect this would happened?”

He dipped his head. “I knew something wasn’t right the moment Starfleet started to talk to us and ask all kinds of questions. But it’s only when I learned about the _Khonsu_ that I realised we would have to face an admiralty bent on breaking us because, deep down, they’re afraid of us, I believe. Afraid of the unknown we represent. Afraid of how we’ve managed to survive when many of them, I suspect, would have bent under the task, and what we have become since. Not all of Starfleet of course. But enough of them at the highest level.”

She pondered his words, the lines on her forehead creasing. “Knowing all that, how could you split the crew and take _Voyager_ back to find me? You would have known it wouldn’t help the cause of those on the _Khonsu_.”

Chakotay toyed with the idea of telling her he’d thought of taking the Delta Flyer by himself, but that wasn’t what was important right now. “Something Tom said. That each member of the crew had made their decision. They all knew what would await them: decades longer in the Delta quadrant, or being treated with suspicion once home, maybe even thrown in prison. Either way, no fanfare, no red carpet. No recognition of what they had gone through, of the losses they’d suffered. But it was their choice to go or stay. Not an order from Starfleet. Not an order from their captain.”

She shifted closer, listening attentively.

“I’m sure individual circumstances had a great part to play,” he continued. “Some had families back home, others had nobody to return to. Each a different story, a different motivation. But their own choice in the end.” He smiled. “So, I made mine too.”

“And I am in their debt, and yours,” she said, her artificial hand twitching in her lap. For all its unnaturalness, the prosthesis was a better reflection of Kathryn’s deeper feelings than her words, and he had learned to take notice of its idiosyncrasies.

Forgetting his carefully laid plan, Chakotay bristled at the stubbornness of the woman. “Don’t make it a dry and stale matter of debits and balances. Your life isn’t written in dripping red ink on one page of a ledger, with the crew’s names on the other.”

“What else could it be, though?” She glared at him. “That’s what it means to be captain, you know that. That’s why I can’t—”

“One is not in debt to their family. Because that is what this crew is. A family,” he said. “They love you and wanted their captain back. I love you and wanted Kathryn back. That’s why we came back for you.”

This time, her eyes were throwing daggers. “How can you say that? You might have loved the fearless captain once, the woman warrior, but I am not that person now.”

He let her go, his anger rising. “Don’t you, of all people, tell me what I feel or don’t feel for you. And don’t you hide behind self-pity. It’s not who you are.”

“Self-pity?" Jumping off the couch, she put some distance between them. "Tell me the truth, Chakotay. What do you see when you look at me now?”

He forced himself to calm down and opened his hands in apology. “You. Only you. Exhausted, hurt, but—”

She wasn’t listening. “I’ve got metal for a hand and a mind which wasn’t mine for weeks on end. Small spaces terrify me. I dread silence and too much noise. I can’t stand being alone or having people around. So, don’t toss those pips at me. I’m not the captain you wish me to be anymore.”

He tried to interrupt, but she was on a roll. “Troi went on too about how I would protect the crew again if the need arose.” She put her arms around herself. “She’s wrong. I don’t know what I’d do if another species saw fit to block our passage, and we had to fight or flee. I can’t make that sort of split-second judgement anymore, Chakotay. I can’t lead this crew.”

So, the counsellor too knew the way for Kathryn to rebuild herself was her overpowering sense of duty to do what was right by her crew. Not protocols. Not orders from above. Not pride in her former rank. Kathryn had to realise that becoming captain again was her only option. Not a yoke as much as a mutual obligation. The crew needed a captain to lead them, and she needed a crew to look after. But he couldn't just tell her and everything would be fine.

“Don’t you see?” he said. “Whatever excuse you can find, Starfleet isn’t going to see it that way. They’ll think I’ve pressured you to resign, and they’ll make hell for our crew in return.”

She sat back down. “They’ll have to trust you.”

“After all I’ve told you, do you think Nechayev will allow the status quo to continue now that you’re back on _Voyager_?”

Frowning as if wavering, Kathryn glanced down.

“In any event, we won’t be in contact with Starfleet for a few days at our present speed,” he added. “Why don’t you take that time to weigh your options?” If needed, he could always delay their arrival at the comms buoy.

He reached for her and put his hand to her cheek, wiping the moisture which had made its way there. “Whichever path you chose, you won’t walk it alone any longer. I’ll be with you all the way, and we’ll travel together.”

Closing her eyes for a couple of seconds, she leaned into his touch. “Thank you,” she whispered.

When she re-opened her eyes, he could see she had reached a decision. He put his finger on her lips before she could speak. “Stay in my quarters for the night. I’ll go and bunk with Ayala.” he said. “You can use my terminal to go through _Voyager_ ’s logs and communication records with Starfleet to help you make up your mind.”

She nodded. On a whim, he kissed her forehead before getting up lest he did something he had dreamed of for years, but she wasn’t ready for. Throwing his jacket over his shoulders, he strode towards the door.

“Chakotay?” Kathryn stood in the middle of the room, looking small and frail, but perhaps not so alone anymore. “After your shift ends, will you help me bring my belongings out of storage?”

He gave her a dimply smile. “I'd love that, Kathryn. I'd love that very much.”

He left with a grin on his face. Kathryn was making the first step towards recovery. As to whether she would accept the four pips currently on his collar, that was for her to decide. He trusted her to make the choice which was right for her, and hoped she would allow him to stay by her side for the remainder of the long journey home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the last angsty chapter, for those who are wondering if there will ever be a happy ending. One chapter to go, and an Epilogue, which I'll be posting together. The end is nigh, dear loyal readers!


	17. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously:  
>  _He left with a grin on his face. Kathryn was making the first step towards recovery. As to whether she would accept the four pips currently on his collar, that was for her to decide. He trusted her to make the choice which was right for her, and hoped she would allow him to stay by her side for the remainder of the long journey home._

* * *

~ _How can I be sure Chakotay is not holding a phaser to your head, Captain? You’ve been back on-board_ Voyager _for a month now and—~_

“Don’t give me grief, Admiral. You don’t have any other choice than to accept the situation. We’ve been in the Delta quadrant for a very long time. Be grateful that we are still Starfleet. And as for the lives and future of my crew, don’t you dare take them hostage to your spite and ignorance.”

**⁂**

“I’m sorry. It’s not fair of me to wake you up in the middle of the night because I can’t sleep.”

“I wasn’t asleep either. Admiral Nechayev has that effect on me too. I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

“After all you’ve done for _Voyager_ , she’s got the gall not to trust you!”

“It’s all right. I’ve stopped taking it personally ages ago. She cannot see past the label marked ‘Maquis’.”

“I wish there was a way I could shake her out of her vindictiveness.”

“It’s not a battle you can win by going after her single-handedly. We’ve got Tuvok, Paris, Sulu and Picard taking care of our crew back home. As long as we continue to look after our people here, the way we’ve always done, she’ll have nothing to hold against them.”

“You are right, as usual. Sorry for ranting at you.”

“I am here when you need me. You know that.”

“I do. Thank you for the tea, Chakotay. I should go now.”

“Will you be okay?”

“With you by my side? Always.”

“Good night, Kathryn.”

“Good night, Chakotay.”

* * *

~ _Captain, I hope this recording finds you well. I am pleased that your indomitable spirit and that of Commander Chakotay have enabled you to find your way back to_ Voyager _. I regret, however, not to be able to offer you my counsel and assistance during your journey back to the Alpha quadrant_.~

“Oh, Tuvok,” Kathryn said, caressing the screen with a metal finger. “You are with your family, old friend. That is recompense enough for me.”

 _~Please be assured that every member of your crew was treated according to due process once we arrived on Earth. We were allowed to stay with our families during the lengthy individual debriefings_.~

Her eyes narrowed. Behind his composure, Tuvok was as furious as she was at how the crew had been treated.

~ _However,_ _I do believe that your return as_ Voyager _’s captain has assuaged the doubts of many in Starfleet Admiralty. We await its decision as to the next step in the process.~_

His demeanour changed ever so slightly. This time, he seemed as smug as she’d ever seen him. ~ _I am hopeful that a satisfactory resolution will be in sight now that your more recent exploits have made their way onto many public channels.~_

She might not like the fame _Voyager_ had gathered among the Federation public thanks to the families of many crew members and Owen Paris’ efforts, but if it could help her crew from being hounded by Starfleet, she could hardly be a chooser. She just hoped this new tactic wasn’t going to cause more trouble with Nechayev.

~ _Please, let the crew on_ Voyager _know that my thoughts often turn to them. Tell them~—_ there was a slight hesitation in his speech she would have missed if she didn’t know her friend so well _—~that I miss them.~_

His composure regained, he lifted his hand into the traditional Vulcan salute. ~ _Live long and prosper, Captain_.~

Kathryn switched off the PADD and wiped her eyes. Of all the messages she had received from her former crew, why was it that one from a Vulcan could melt her heart so thoroughly?

**⁂**

“There’s nothing more we can do, Kathryn.”

“The crew will be crucified! Nechayev is a biased, opinionated little—”

“She might be chairing the disciplinary hearing, but Admiral Paris is also on the panel, and Captain Picard is the investigative officer. Our crew couldn’t be in better hands. Now, sit down and try to relax. You’ve got knots on top of knots at the back of your neck.”

“Mmmhhh.”

“Mmmhhh?”

“I had forgotten how good _your_ hands are. Please don't stop.”

“I won't, Kathryn. I won't.”

* * *

“Thank you, Owen, for tabling Chakotay’s and my personal commendations at the crew’s hearing. I trust their impeccable behaviour will speak highly of their professionalism and loyalty to Starfleet. Needless to say, all on _Voyager_ await the outcome with grave concerns for their friends and their families.”

Kathryn paused her recording and glanced at the star-streaked night outside. Three months on and her crew was no closer to freedom.

**⁂**

“Even if the decision goes against our crew, and I don’t think it will, we’ll get through this together.”

“I can’t help fearing the worst. Hold me. Please.”

* * *

~ _Captain Janeway. It’s good to see you well and speak to you in person at last_.~

“Captain Picard. I wanted to let you know how grateful I am for your help. I hadn’t expected that Starfleet would exonerate every one of my crew members and see fit to promote those who want to remain among its ranks.”

~ _I only uncovered what was already there for all to see. Your crew’s consistent and straightforward answers as well as their flawless records overrode any concerns the Admiralty had as to their allegiance and trustworthiness. The panel unanimously dropped all charges against them, and Admiral Nechayev was gracious enough not to appeal the verdict after Admiral Sulu intervened. You can be proud of your crew.~_

“They are exceptional people.”

 _~Indeed they are. When the dust settles, I intend to offer Lieutenant Kim and Lieutenant Commander Carey a position on the_ Enterprise _now that the ship is back to its mission of exploration.~_

Serving on Starfleet’s flagship was something earned only through hard work, independent thinking and courage under fire, traits she knew both men exemplified. “Neither will disappoint you.”

~ _Excellent._ ~

She waited. Although she was grateful to Picard for letting her know, he had not contacted her just to discuss his staffing arrangements.

_~One last thing. During their depositions, your crew vindicated your superb leadership when faced with circumstances which would have unsettled more experienced captains, or worse, made some renounce their principles. However, you still have a very long journey in front of you, and I hope you are availing yourself of Commander Troi’s skills and advice. I found her of great succour when I was pondering how to balance my professional and personal life.~_

Janeway felt her eyebrow rise by itself. Was he implying…?

Before she had the time to think of a retort, Picard peered at the clock in the corner of his screen. _~Our time’s up. Don’t hesitate in calling me if you need anything, Captain. Picard out.~_

**⁂**

_The crew cares about you and your happiness._

“Is anything wrong? You haven’t said a word since sitting down,” Chakotay asked.

Kathryn pushed her food around the plate, the low light of the candles playing on the wine glasses. “It was my last regular session with Deanna this afternoon.”

“If you both think you no longer require one-on-one counselling, that’s good, isn't it?” It wasn’t difficult to hear the hint of concern in his voice.

She nodded without lifting her head. “Yes, it is. She’s been such a great help over the past six months in making me face my fears. It’s just something she advised me to do before I left. I’m not sure if I’m ready.”

Deanna’s insights had been both a salve to her damaged mind and a bane to her wilfulness, the woman not letting Kathryn get away with her usual tactics of dealing with personal problems by ignoring them or burying them so deep it was pretty much the same thing. If it hadn’t been for the counsellor’s unwavering guidance, Kathryn wasn’t sure who and where she would be now, and she valued Deanna’s opinion.

_Don’t cut yourself off from your feelings._

Chakotay set down his fork and put his hand over hers. “How can I help?”

This man was too good to her. And that was what was stopping her from taking that last leap, as she’d explained to Deanna. She couldn’t impose herself on him when it was a given he would say yes.

Chakotay brushed his thumb over the back of her hand, sending frissons up and down her arm. “If you feel uncomfortable with her advice, why don’t you think about it for a few more days before making a decision?”

_Give yourself the permission to love._

Was it that simple? That easy? That…right?

Because what could she say about the man across the table? That she cherished his presence by her side every single day? That she would be lost without him? That he anchored her, balanced her, made her feel when feeling sometimes was just too hard?

Leaning over the table, Kathryn took his face between her hands, watching his eyes widen before she kissed him.

“I’ve done all the thinking I need to,” she said when she let him breathe.

He didn’t argue.

* * *

~ _Hello, Kathryn_.~

Will was no longer the lean and strapping young man who had tried to lure her away from her studies a lifetime ago, but his blue eyes were dancing, and his wide smile was contagious.

Her cheeks warmed under his gaze. “Will. I don’t know if I’ll ever been able to repay you for what you’ve done for my crew.”

_~Deanna tells me that you aren’t the most difficult captain she has ever had to deal with, and for that alone, I thank you.~_

Kathryn smiled. She knew the depth of the love between Deanna and Will, still separated by decades of travel. Then, she grew sombre. “I will bring her back home. I promise you that.”

~ _I know you will, Kathryn. And I’ll be there, waiting at the bottom of the ramp when_ Voyager _lands._ ~

Kathryn could only tilt her head at Will’s confidence. He had tasted the Delta quadrant’s callousness towards anyone who dared crossed its immense breadth. He had lost what was dear to him to its depths. And yet, he trusted he would see his wife one day and take her in his arms.

**⁂**

“Stay the night.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. But only if you—”

“I’ll stay.”

* * *

“Admiral Sulu.” She just about stood up and saluted.

_~Captain Janeway. I haven't got much time. Since I retired from my retirement, Starfleet has seen fit to push more paperwork on my desk than I care to think about.~_

“Please accept my gratitude for your relentless support for my crew, Admiral, and my most sincere apologies for having forced you to return to work.”

A twinkle appeared in the old man’s eyes. _~Captain, people like us do not do well in retirement, despite what my husband tells me every day. I am delighted that Tuvok thought of me in your hour of need, and it was a pleasure as well as my duty to make a few people face the error of their ways. But now, we need to help you.~_

“Sir?”

 _~We are sending the_ Khonsu _back to the Delta quadrant.~_

She hadn't heard properly. “The _Khonsu_? Back? For us? How did you…?”

~ _Captain, Starfleet is not in the business of abandoning its people. Or at least, it wasn't when I was but a helm officer on the bridge of the_ Enterprise A _. That's not to say that Starfleet doesn’t need to be reminded of that most basic of principles at times. The_ Khonsu _will depart within two months. If you do not deviate from your current course, it will rendezvous with you not far from where it picked up the first half of your crew. All things going well, you should be back on Earth in four years.~_

“Earth. Home,” Kathryn said, not really listening. Then she looked up and shook her head in confusion. “Why?”

Sulu’s kind eyes met hers. ~ _You and your crew have touched the hearts and minds of many in the Alpha quadrant, Captain. During the war, news from_ Voyager _was enough to push our despair away for a little while. Since then, your staunch determination to get home whatever the price to yourself has sustained us during the challenging post-war reconstruction. And now, we want to repay our debt to you. We will get your crew back, Captain, and this time you’ll all get a well-deserved welcome.~_

**⁂**

How did he know she preferred the right-hand side of the bed?

How did he know how to make her forget everything but them?

How did he know how to make her body and mind sing?

* * *

“I’ve removed the dedication plaque, Captain. Is that the last thing you wanted me to take back to the _Khonsu_?”

“Yes, thank you, B’Elanna. Such a small object to remember a ship by, isn’t it?”

“ _Voyager_ has carried us as far as it could, but it can’t follow where we are going. You said so yourself this morning at the crew’s assembly. But we can’t abandon it to be picked by salvage hunters or destroyed by a spatial anomaly. I understand that now.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m committing murder?”

“It’s the only solution. Would you like me to stay behind and use my own authorisation code?”

“I’m sorry. You are right, of course. And, as much as it hurts, it’s my responsibility as captain. Please, go back to the _Khonsu_ and keep a transporter lock on me. I just need a few more minutes alone.”

“Take all the time you need, Captain.”

After B’Elanna left, Janeway sat in her bridge command chair for the last time, and patted the console. “Thank you, _Voyager_. Thank you for giving us a home.”

Only the sound of the environmental system could be heard, and a shudder run down her back. This wasn’t home anymore. It was only an empty tritanium husk without the people who had lent it life for so many years. A ghost ship, and she didn’t want to remember her beloved _Voyager_ like that.

She stood and lifted her chin. “Computer, initiate the self-destruct sequence. Authorisation Janeway pi one zero.”

_~Warp core overload in ten minutes.~_

“Janeway to the _Khonsu_. One to beam back.”

The explosion illuminated the night behind, but her gaze remained firmly on the journey ahead.

**⁂**

Later, he would have no memories other than of her eyes in the darkness of their quarters. Wide, but not surprised. Wise was closer to the truth. As if she had been waiting for him for all those years, but the right time had only just come.

He turned to face her, the curves of her body silhouetted against the low lighting of their cramped quarters. “Marry me,” he said, bringing her fingers to his lips. “We are not on _Voyager_ any longer. The crew is safe. The Maquis have been pardoned. Marry me.”

“Yes.” She put her hand to his cheek, and he leaned into her touch, and there wasn’t much else to say.

**⁂**

“And with the powers vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife.”

Will’s smile was brighter than the nebula the _Khonsu_ was streaming through, and Deanna had to poke him so he would finish the ceremony.

**⁂**

_We wish you two the best life together_ – Owen and Julia Paris, San Francisco, Earth

 _It’s only taken you what, Katie? Nine years? See you in a few months!_ – Phoebe, Florence, Earth

 _May your lives be long and prosper as one_ – Tuvok and T’Pel, Vulcan

 _Great news, Chakotay. Better late than never!_ – Ayala, Mexico City, Earth

 _So happy for you two, Captain, Commander. My parents send their congratulations too_ – Lieutenant Harry Kim, _Enterprise_ , Rigel system

 _Kolopak would approve, brother_ – Sekaya, Trebus

 _Kiss the man for me_ – Gretchen, Bloomington, Earth

* * *

Her eyes settled on the vista in front of her, a scene she had believed many times she would never see again. Children played in the foreground, families and dogs strolled the wet sand, and small waves lapped at the beach of San Francisco Bay, the sharp tang of the sea saturating the air.

Today, for the first time since the _Khonsu_ had returned, she was free of meetings, interviews, reports and responsibilities. For the first time in years, she wasn’t concerned about the journey. She had arrived at her destination and a new future awaited her.

She burrowed a little deeper into Chakotay’s chest.

It had been an emotional roller coaster to see the whole crew together the evening before for the first time since their arrival. There’d hardly been a dry eye in the Starfleet hall when she had presented each of the crew with a medal showing their beloved ship flying through the stars. _Voyager_ might be no longer, but its spirit would live long in the minds and hearts of those who had made it their home for nearly a decade.

As she watched the waves coming and retreating on the seashore as they had done for eons, she wished her former crew good luck and safe journeys. As for her, she was home—regrets, hurts, pain and nightmares firmly in the past, and her future wide open. All thanks to the man stirring behind her, his fingers intertwined over her middle.

“There's a legend among my people,” he said. “About a warrior who—”

She turned her head and smiled. “Is he the same dashing warrior as in the first legend you told me?”

He nodded sagely. “I believe so.”

Kathryn faced the sea again. It still felt like a stolen moment, something she should hide from the world, but nobody glanced at them. They were only one couple among many enjoying a warm autumn afternoon. She sure could get used to it all.

“And what did this warrior do?” she asked, her metal fingers covering his hands. He no longer baulked at touching her prosthesis, and in turn she had made peace with it too, accepting that it was a part of her now. ‘The captain with the iron hand’, the public and viznews called her now, and it fitted somehow.

“He stood by the side of a very wise and very cherished woman,” Chakotay continued. “Together, they led their people through many battles, dangers and storms, and in return their people loved them both dearly. But one day, a merciless darkness threatened the tribe and the woman warrior sacrificed herself to save it. She found herself alone and lost in a vast and empty wilderness.”

Kathryn shivered despite the bright sunshine, and Chakotay tightened his arms around her.

“Everyone mourned her passing. How could she have survived in such a desolate place with no sun to warm her and none of her people to help her? They turned to the man for guidance, and he took over as their leader, but his heart was full of sadness and guilt for not having saved the woman warrior from herself and protected her too.”

This time, she gently squeezed his hand. With Deanna’s help, they had talked at length about his feelings of remorse, and there was nothing she could add, except to acknowledge his pain when it emerged.

“Her people suffered many tribulations until, after several years, the warrior received a call from beyond. Accompanied by faithful friends, he left the tribe to search high and low for the woman he could not live without. The woman he loved more than his own life.”

Chakotay leaned over and kissed her on the neck. “And after years of searching, years of longing, he finally found her, and her people rejoiced with him.”

Smiling, she relaxed in his strong arms. Then frowned and turned her head so she could look at him. “That's a very short legend.”

“Well, there’s more…” He brushed her hair aside. “Her enemies cast a spell on the woman warrior before she banished them into the night they came from. Alive and yet not alive, she fell into a deep sleep. She felt nothing, saw nothing, and it was a worse fate than death to see her still lost in her own darkness.”

“Until, one day, the man took the woman in his arms,” she said, not wanting to dwell on a time she hardly remembered. She faced him before pushing him gently onto the sand. Her lips captured his and for a moment, nothing was more important than this man.

“And she awoke,” he whispered when she took a breath. “Saw her gallant rescuer, and from then on, they were together for the rest of their lives.”

“What?” She pushed herself off his chest and studied the dimply face under her. “No wedding?”

“Oh, sorry. How could I have forgotten? A splendid wedding it was too. People from far away attended and there was food and good wishes, dances and cheers, and joy flooded the land for days on end.”

And she laughed until he kissed her again.


	18. Epilogue - Nightfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Chapter 11:
>
>> _She searched the hand sub-processor for its original programming, when it had belonged to a machine like the one patiently waiting on the other side of the toughened transparent aluminium. Deciphering ancient sub-routines, Janeway found what she needed and sent the order._  
> 

The machine retreated from the window and pushed its grinding blades into the _City_ ’s hull, obeying the instructions written by its original designers millennia before to burrow and quarry whatever lay under its heavy feet. Then it sent the same order to the other mining units trudging the surface of the Shabma ship on tedious cleaning duties.

Tireless, resilient and virtually indestructible, the machines went to work, digging, refining, and processing the metals they hauled out. Then they used the materials they’d stockpiled to build more of themselves. They mined, replicated and multiplied—slowly at first when there were only few of them, then faster and faster as their numbers increased at an ever-swifter rate—all the while ignored by the flesh and bone beings who dwelled deep inside the mother ship and had little interest in affairs outside their own.

Until a couple of years after _Voyager_ had fought its way out of Shabma space, what remained of the stryker fleet, a trickle at first, then a flood, panicked and harried, poured out the ruins of the _City_ and crossed the Rim for the first time since the Shabma had exited the Desolation, eons prior.

A vast galaxy, whose existence they had long rejected out of fear and hatred, awaited the striker pilots on the other side of the asteroid field, and madness descended upon them at the sight of stars shining their bright and unrelenting glare upon them. A galaxy bursting with suns, planets, ships, and most of all people remembering old tales about a murderous species cowering close to the void and slaughtering all who navigated its territory.

None of the Shabma made it far into the light despite their cries and warnings of an even bigger threat brewing near the Desolation.

When the fighting ended, their pursuers ventured into the space between the void and the asteroid field in search of the fabled giant ship said to reside there. They found nothing but hundreds of mining machines slowly drifting across the empty space once occupied by the Shabma and now void of any sentient life, and they left them be. The _City_ was no more, its metals and alloys stripped away.

Having exhausted all available feedstock, their toil coming to a grinding halt, the patient and enduring machines floated idly and waited. Years, as measured on a far away planet, passed. Decades. Then, one machine, followed by another, then three and soon dozens turned their dogged attention to the seemingly inexhaustible supply of rocks tumbling overhead.

A thousand years later, long after _Voyager_ ’s deeds and that of its captains had turned into ancient legends, rumours of an incoming colossal wave of ever-ravenous machines spread through the systems which were now missing an entire asteroid belt.

Nobody listened.

**_T H E E N D_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from ‘Nightfall’, Isaac Asimov, 1941

**Author's Note:**

> A note to my betas, BlackVelvet42 and Coffeeblack75 for their patience, comments, encouragements, concerns, more encouragements, dying of joy, face-palms, nice ways of saying 'this is not working', question marks, did I mention encouragements?  
> This year has been a nightmare for many. Although I might not have been as badly impacted as others, it doesn't mean that I expected my betas to be so fortunate. But they were there for me, and that made a great difference.
> 
> There have been many missing scenes written for the Night episode, but very few fics, to my knowledge, have explored the fate of Kathryn Janeway if she had remained alone in the void.
> 
> Vanhunks' [_Diary of a Madwoman_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8002864), a masterpiece of claustrophobia and slow descent into hopelessness, describing the length to which Janeway will go not to lose her mind. Ends well!
> 
> quantumsilver's [_Happy Endings_](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6789598/1/Happy-Endings). As the author says: _don’t expect a magic rainbow in that one, despite the title._
> 
> Curator's equally devastating view on what would have happened to Janeway in chapter 5 of [_Not This Time_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25775944/chapters/62603647)


End file.
